There and Back and Back Again
by ExperimentalNotion
Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up 33 years old with a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay. Fem!Bilbo/Thorin
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster._

* * *

Chapter One

The sea was smooth and glassy, untouched by the pleasant breeze that whispered through the air and stirred Billa's sparse white locks. The air hummed with quiet, excited anticipation as the elves, Gandalf, and even Frodo whispered eagerly about what was to come when they reached their destination. They were sailing to the Undying lands, and after years of suffering and decay, they would finally be at peace.

Billa was set apart from the others, and she watched them with eyes that were seeing clearly for the first time in decades. She watched Frodo especially, thinking of the young, blue-eyed fauntling who had come to her after her darkest years, and filled her home with laughter and lessons. Her heart ached at the differences between the playful, thoughtful lad she had left on her eleventy-first birthday, and the world-weary, dull-eyed hobbit who had come for her years later in Rivendell.

By the time Frodo had come for her at Rivendell, just a few weeks ago, Billa's old, old mind had been shuttered and dark, wandering in memory. Her bones ached and creaked, her vision was dark and blurry, and her too-old ears had made the beautiful elf songs sound dim and far away. Here on the ship, however, something about the crisp salty air or the approaching destination had renewed her, and she was strong enough to stand by herself.

She stood on the deck, gripping the railing with skeletal, liver-spotted hands and staring out into the silver sea. All the other passengers on the elegant vessel had their eyes fixed firmly, eagerly forward, but Billa didn't. She looked back.

Her mind was clear and sharp for the first time in many years, and as she reflected on her life, she found herself full of regret. She had made so many mistakes, in her life, and seen so much death and sorrow. She'd had over eighty years to imagine what she could have, should have done differently and even now as she was passing out of the mortal world, her heart was heavy.

She had done so much wrong, even when her intentions were pure. She had in her well-meaning presumption or self-satisfied idleness made messes that others had suffered or died to clean up. Although her mind told her that she ought to look forward as the others did towards the Undying Lands, Billa's heart could not bear to look away from the mortal land of her home.

She had lost so many friends, there. Balin, Ori, Oin in the Mines of Moria. Oh, how she'd wept when Frodo had told her of their fates! Fili and Kili, the young dwarves she'd known only for a few months, but had cared for almost as deeply as she'd cared for her own heir, Frodo. Their loss had pained her deeply.

And... Thorin. She sighed heavily. If there was one thing that she had bungled from the very beginning, it was her friendship with Thorin. And then, just as things were starting to look up between them, there had come disaster, and then betrayal, and then death. Their disaster, and then her betrayal, and then... his death.

Billa felt a tear sliding down her cheek, and angrily dashed it away. As if a dam had broke, more tears followed, and her vision swam as she sniffled wetly. She lifted one hand from the railing to mop at her eyes.

It was, in fact, because she was crying so much that she did not see the sea stirring suspiciously, nor the green, reptilian hide slipping insidiously in and out of the water and circling the ship. The others were gathered near the middle of the deck and looking only to each other or the distant horizon, and there was no one to shout a warning.

Then the serpent reared up, towering above the railing with yellow eyes glinting and razor fangs glistening in the silver sunlight before it struck faster than lightning. The shipped rocked horribly and one of the elves screamed in fear.

With that single movement, Billa Baggins had been swallowed whole.

* * *

Frodo gaped in horror at the leviathan that had swallowed his aunt down like a bite-sized appetizer. Gandalf glared, his hand tightening around his staff as he took up a defensive position in front of the last hobbit onboard. The elves unsheathed weapons they had not thought they would need, swiping and stabbing at the creature, thwarting her lunges and and leaping away from her snapping jaws.

It was Lord Elrond who finally scored a blow, gouging out the eye of the rare beast and it reared back, screeching in pain. The sea glowed green for a moment, and the serpent dove down into the darkness, waves roiling and rocking the ship fiercely. Everyone ran to the railing, straining their eyes to find the sea creature who had stolen their friend. It was in vain. The sea settled back into silver, with nary a ripple in sight.

The creature had vanished. Billa Baggins was gone.

* * *

The serpent dove into the timestream, away from the hunters who took her eye. She was one of only a few such serpents, whose appetites were determined too large to be confined to a linear time. They were magnificent creatures, allowed to rove through the centuries and millenia to find enough to eat. In her pain and raging fury, she dove deeper than she meant and a trip that was only supposed to be a few years spanned, in fact, a few decades. Finally, she turned and started swimming up, towards the light. She cautiously surfaced, fouling the silver water with her green blood as the stars glittered coldly in the dark night sky.

* * *

Of the hobbit in the leviathon's stomach: her heart had been pounding far too wildly throughout this whole adventure and she finally died when her old, over-worked heart gave out. However, the large old soul that was Billa's did not die, as Billa Baggins was alive and well in this time, and her younger soul was tied firmly to her body. They would move on together, or not at all. The old soul, sensing the sameness of self and a healthy, living anchor across the water was swiftly, implacably drawn towards home.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter Two

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort." The hobbit in question, who moments ago had been peacefully, placidly sleeping and dreaming of dances, parties, and cakes, bolted upright with a gasp, clutching her heart which pounded painfully in her chest.

"Frodo!" she gasped faintly, "Gandalf! Help!" She flailed about, tangled in her sheets until she tumbled off the bed and landed solidly on the floor. With a start, her eyes cleared and she could see by the moonlight streaming through the window. What she saw was impossible, for all that she recognized her surroundings immediately. Here she was, in the home where she was born, where she had lived for over one hundred years. However, Billa Baggins was quite sure that she had just been _eaten by a sea monster_ and either she was stark raving mad, or she was dead, and this was the afterlife.

She blinked, bemused, for several moments before mustering the presence of mind to decide. Her mind felt sharp, clearer than it had been in decades, but she wasn't yet used to it.

 _Well,_ she decided shakily, _if this is the afterlife, then there is sure to be a guide. And Mother and Father will be here. I'll just go and check in their rooms._ So she did, clumsily untangling herself from the blankets, marveling at the smooth, unwrinkled skin across her hands and the strength in her legs. How easily she could move and balance in this body! The afterlife was not so bad.

She poked her head cautiously out of her room and padded quietly down the hall, her heart joyful and nervous in anticipation. _Mother and Father will be here! It's been over one hundred years since I've seen them. And Balin, and Ori, and Oin who died in Moria, and all my old friends who died before me and left me behind. Fili, and Kili, and Thorin. Thorin!_

However, when she knocked and opened the door to her parent's room, no one was there. The bed was made and the room was tidied and packed away, empty as it had been for decades.

Eyebrows furrowed in consternation, she went to the kitchen, and then the study. No one was there.

She searched the whole house, crying out, "Mother! Father! I'm here. Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?" The house, however, was empty and silent. Her stomach felt like lead, sinking with disappointed hopes. After an hour of searching and desperately calling, even looking under beds and in closets, tossing things about, she sank down onto the armchair in her living room, put her head into her hands, and cried. They weren't here, and for several dreadful moments, it was as if they had died all over again, and her grief rose up to clench at her throat and steal her breath.

After a few minutes, her tears had dried and the lump in her throat had disappeared. She felt more equal to the mystery in front of her. She had been alive for one hundred and thirty one years! She had faced trolls and dragons and old age with all the grace and courage she possessed, and this would be no different. She set out to explore her hobbit-hole again, this time looking for clues to illuminate her situation.

It was on the desk in the study, where she had spent so many years writing down her story, that she found something of note. Her calendar, in which she habitually crossed off each day, was marked, and the date sent a great shock through her. It was not the day or the month which worried her. It was the year.

Billa Baggins had been born in 2890. The company she loved so much had shown up on her doorstep in 2941 when she was fifty-one years old. She had boarded the ship to the Undying Lands in 3021.

The year on the calendar stood out starkly and she stared in disbelief. **S.R. 13** **23**. In normal reckoning, that would be the year 2923. Impossible!

She stared for a few minutes before scrambling to find her journal, which she had kept religiously since her parents gave it to her, shortly before their deaths. She tore through the pages, flicking to the last entry and checking the date. **S.R. 13** **23** again.

She wasn't in the afterlife. Either she was stark raving mad or she was alive again, and thirty-three years old. Almost two decades before her dwarves would come knocking at the door. It would be forty-five years before Frodo was born!

The day had been long and exhausting. She had started out ancient and withered before being eaten and killed before waking up in the afterlife before losing her parents and friends again before being sent back in time. I think we can hardly begrudge our heroine her shock, for after she put all these facts together, she fainted dead away.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 3

Billa woke up slowly, the stiffness in her back and the encroaching sunlight through the study window dancing in the background of her mind and pulling her into awareness. _Oh yes,_ she thought, _that's right. I fainted in the study. How silly of me._

She sat up, stretching out the kinks from spending several hours on the hard wood floor. Then, she clambered up into her desk chair, and stared at her papers. She needed a plan.

"I don't know what to do," she announced to the dust motes dancing in the sunlight. "However it happened, this is a tremendous opportunity and I don't want to spoil it." She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled thoughtfully. "It would be lovely if I could find a way to start the quest early so as not to spend the next eighteen years in boredom. However, if I want to find the Ring again, I need to get us into the Misty Mountains as close to the original date as possible. There is no guarantee that I would be able to slip away the same way, or fall off into the exact same spot, or that Gollum would be there. Indeed, I doubt he drops his ring every day! Either I get there on the right day, or I have to be prepared to take it from him, and that is something I would rather avoid."

Having pondered this, she began to make a list. It looked something like this.

 **Things I Want to Change \ Things That Cannot Change **

No one dies! \ Misty Mountains capture

Gold sickness- is that possible? \\...

Relations with the elves\\...

She knew the list was far from complete. She'd like to change their Mirkwood imprisonment as well, to improve relations with the elves of course, but on the other hand, she was loathe to give up the chance to rescue them. _Hmmm..._ she thought. _I have plenty of time to decide._ Then a thought occurred to her, and she laughed out loud.

"I don't want to give up my chances to rescue them because that was when I was finally accepted! I was no longer seen as the weak little burden, but as a valuable and capable member of the company. Perhaps... if I can make it happen...If I were accepted from the start, it would be a good deal easier and there would be far less rescuing necessary. Mmm... Yes! That will be my goal for now." Indeed, a devious plot was brewing in her mind.

She couldn't change the date of the quest, because she needed to find the Ring. However, there was no reason she had to wait until the company came knocking in order to meet them, was there? _No,_ she thought gleefully, _no reason to wait at all!  
_

She dashed around the office, gathering up her financial books and scrolls. Back at the desk, she spread them out and pored over them. The Bagginses had always been particularly well off, and she had inherited from both of her parents, and had spent hardly any of it. _Yes,_ she thought, _I have plenty of funds to start a 'business venture' of sorts_ _. All that's left is to find my dwarves and convince them. I can buy toys from Bifur and Bofur to sell to fauntlings in the Shire. Thorin worked as a blacksmith, and there are forges in the Shire where he could ply his trade. But they were all wanderers, and I have no idea exactly where to find them. Nevertheless, find them and befriend them, I most certainly will._

She updated her list, now hoping to change the capture by elves and being hunted by orcs, as well as the first meeting at Bag End when she had been so flustered by them. She wanted to change the fate of Lake Town and find a way to kill Smaug without sacrificing hundreds of innocents in the process. She had eighteen years, after all. If there was a way, she could surely find it. And that last bloody battle, where Men and Elves and her brave Dwarves fought together... this most of all she hoped to change.

She spent the morning making plans, scribbling figures onto parchment and poring over maps. On their journey, they had traveled in a fairly straight line directly east from the Shire. The Blue Mountains, where her dwarves had settled in Ered Luin, were to the west and a little bit North. It was the journey of a few weeks, and she hardly had the supplies for it. It was a very long journey and there was no guarantee that her dwarves would be there. _Perhaps,_ she thought, as she looked at the map once more, _I will go first to Bree. I can get my feet wet, so to speak and get used to traveling again. And some of my dwarves may be there for trade, or I may hear news of them there._ She nodded her head decisively. She would travel to Bree and get a feel for things.

She stretched as she stood up, arching her back and craning her limbs this way and that. How wonderful it was to move without the aches and pains of old age! To stand up straight, firm and tall as one was able, and to walk without a cane. Yes, to be young again was marvelous indeed. She skipped lightly around her smial, humming as she set out things to pack for her journey. A bedroll, a waterskin, nonperishables, her toughest clothes. She spent half an hour looking for Sting before remembering it was still waiting in a troll-hoard for her. _Hmm. Something to buy or have forged, if I can find Thorin._ As she thought about it further, she added a mail-coat or light armor to that list. And knives. _Ha! I doubt Thorin's ever forged a set of weapons for a hobbit,_ she smirked to herself. _Perhaps I should ease him in gently._ She went to the kitchen to find her oldest and most battered set of pans to add to her bag, already planning how to needle at his pride and goad him into working with her. While she was there, she paused to dance a hobbit-jig, just because she could.

It would be a week's journey to walk to Bree, less if she bought a pony. She wishy-washed over that for a while, before deciding to trust her own feet for this little adventure.

Remembering how she came home to an auction last time she left on an adventure, Billa took precautions. She penned two notes, one for her gardener Halfast, and one for her oldest living uncle on her mother's side, Isumbras IV.

 _Dear Uncle/Mister Gamgee,_

 _I've decided I need a little fresh air, and am taking a leisurely walking tour through the country. I may be gone for a few weeks or up to a few months. I'd appreciate it if you could keep an eye out on things while I'm gone. I'll try to send you a note every few weeks so as not to worry you._

 _Thank you ever so!_

 _Billa Baggins_

She folded and stamped each one, taking them down to the mailbox. She took a moment there to just stare out at the Shire, the endless, rolling green with little plumes of smoke rising from industrious little chimneys to mingle with the clouds. It had been twenty years since she looked on this view with clear eyes. It was still just as beautiful and peaceful as she remembered. The sun was falling near the horizon, and she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before carefully settling herself (still in her nightgown and wrapped in a dressing gown! How scandalous) onto her front-porch bench to enjoy a beautiful sight that she hadn't seen in so very long.

After the sun had set, she dried a few more tears and shuffled back into her smial. She finished packing, rolling everything up tightly and stuffing it into an old sack. She would have to replace almost everything at Bree, for all she had were thin substitutes of real traveling gear.

Everything was packed, and she smoothed her hand over the worn bag. She set her sturdiest walking stick beside it- her only weapon until she got to Bree. Finally, she retired to bed, washing her face and brushing her hair before climbing into the so-soft bed. _Nobody dies,_ she reminded herself, _nobody dies._ With visions of tall, broad figures with beards, and one little hobbit fauntling with dark curls and wide blue eyes dancing behind her eyes, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 4

The next morning, Billa was up early, excited to be going. It was lovely to see Bag End again, but her heart was singing at the thought of a long walk through nature. It had been too long since she could walk without a cane, and even longer since she could walk without any discomfort at all. She was young and strong and hale again, and as she set out from Bag End, locking the door behind her, she walked with swing in her hips, a skip in her step, and a song on her lips.

 _The road goes ever on and on  
Down from the door where it began  
By caves where never sun has shone  
By streams that never reach the sea_

She waved to her neighbors as she passed, and they gaped at her. Prior to this, Miss Billa Baggins had been quite respectable, a pretty lass and a worthy catch. Yet here she was, in men's trousers (of all things!) with a pack on her back, trudging away from home all alone! How very odd.

Billa paid them no mind. She had been Mad Miss Baggins for eighty years after the Company came! It was no great trial to be Mad Miss Baggins again. She walked on for hours, settling down for lunch in the shade of a great oak tree. She patted the tree gently, remembering the heavy oaken branch that a tall, blue-eyed dwarrow had wielded and carried for miles on their journey.

"Oakenshield indeed," she murmured softly. "A hard, stubborn tree with hard, stubborn wood, worthy as any shield, but not nearly so hard nor so stubborn as his head." She smiled softly, and petted the tree again before continuing on her journey. When the night came, she gratefully sank down onto her bedroll, which was tucked away behind some bushes away from the road. She had no weapons after all, and it was best to be cautious. She groaned as she as she sat, for despite her eagerness for the journey and her young body, her muscles ached and even her tough-soled feet were weary.

"The spirit is willing!" she exclaimed cheerfully as she rubbed her aching muscles, "but the flesh is weak and long out of practice. Still, better to toughen up now while there are no dwarves around to hear my complaints, and I can go as slow or as quick as I like." And so the journey passed, each day like the last and when she finally stumbled into Bree eight days later, she was footsore and tired, for it was very hard to sleep on the road without being used to it. She promptly took lodgings under the name Bilbo Baggins at the Prancing Pony in one of their perfectly hospitable little hobbit rooms, and after a long bath and a hot steaming meal, she sank down in the cushion of the bed and, despite the afternoon hour, fell right asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Billa slept late and was slow to awaken. Her muscles were sore, but they ached in a pleasant sort of way that made her feel strong and capable. She stretched and stretched and then collapsed back into the pillows with a sigh and a smile. When she finally made it out of her room, she was garbed in her most masculine clothes, hair tied up under a hat, and armed with several purses of gold that she secreted all around her person so as to deter any pickpockets. She was rather good at this, as Nori had taken her under his wing and taught her both how to swipe purses, and how to keep them from being swiped.

Her first stop was to find a proper satchel to replace the old sack that held her things. It was oiled on the outside to repel water, and she haggled until she was able to get an oiled rain-tarp, a soft travel blanket, and travel gear like fire-starting equipment and some good sturdy rope included. Feeling exceedingly pleased with herself, Billa went next to a tailor to get strong, durable travel clothes made. She had worn her sturdiest pair of trousers on the journey, but they were not suitable for the road and were already showing signs of wear. Billa found several pairs of trousers that were reinforced with leather, and she added two pairs of quilted under-trousers to keep warm in the winter months. She got more pairs than she would need on this trip, knowing that these could last her for several years and she would store any unused pairs at Bag End until the next adventure. Several long sleeved shirts and tunics were added as well, as well as two quilted coats, two cloaks, two oilskin slickers, and several pairs of gloves. All of this was put into her new satchel, excepting the tunic, shirt and trousers she wore out of the shop.

Finally looking and feeling hardier and more prepared, Billa was ready to begin trawling through the pubs, looking for news of dwarves from the Blue Mountains, whether they be toy carvers, mischief makers, or blacksmiths.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 5

Bree had several inns and twice that many pubs, and Billa knew she would have a long night seeking information. She started by asking at each inn if there were any dwarves staying with them, saying that she had been traveling with a group of dwarves but they had gotten separated and she knew they intended to stop in Bree. All of the inns answered negatively, and she decided she would ask at the Prancing Pony after checking the pubs. She started at one end of the long main road in Bree, and planned to go pub to pub up the road, and then back down the other side.

Before she met the company, she had never frequented a pub like these in her life. A trip to the Green Dragon was very different from these rough, dim places! But, the company had been through several spots like these, both in Bree and Laketown. Bofur and Nori had whispered into her ear many tricks about the goings-on at pubs, and she knew what she ought to do in order to gather information in the most efficient and polite way possible.

She began by going up to the bartender, showing him a coin, and saying she was looking for dwarves from the Blue Mountains, would he have any information? The bartender at The Crown shook his oily head, smiling with yellow teeth and saying that dwarves and little folk didn't often come in the door.

"Well then, good man, which doors do they often go into?" she asked smartly, feeling several hard eyes drilling into her back and thinking that perhaps little folk didn't come in this door for a very good reason. He raised an eyebrow, and she put two coins down on the counter. He smiled again and told her with his rough accent that the smaller folk usually stayed in the pubs around the Prancing Pony, as it had the best accommodations for folk of their size, and there was an old forge on that end of town that some of the travelling blacksmiths would use. As he spoke, she could feel and hear several large, tall persons walking up behind her, looming over her and breathing heavily.

Billa thanked him promptly, hopped down from the counter, and ducked under and around the Big Folk who had started to surround her stool until she was safely outside. She swerved into an alley and into the shadows, putting her back against the wall and breathing hard. Those eyes had felt predatory, and it had been a long time since she had felt like prey. She gripped her walking stick tightly and took a few experimental swings with it. It was no Sting, but she could crack a few heads with it, and it was long enough to even out the disparity of her short hobbit arms versus larger, taller attackers. She felt a little safer as she thought of this.

It was just as she was having these thoughts that she heard a shout, a yelp, and a scuffle out on the street. Warily, she peered around the corner. Then, she gaped.

 _Kili, sister-son of Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, was just a few yards away!_ What's more, he was being waylaid by several men larger and stronger than him, with no other dwarves in sight. Kili had always been poorer at hand-to-hand combat, and his nose was already bloodied. He was unarmed, but his face was set in a glare that rivaled Thorin's, and she could see that he didn't mean to back down. She could also see knives glinting in the hands of his attackers, and before she knew it, she was charging into the fray with a battle cry, waving her walking stick with a ferocity that she hadn't felt since she was on the quest with Thorin Oakenshield and Company.

Surprise was on her side, as was determination and her natural protective instincts. She struck two attackers in the head with her stick, bloodying a nose and an ear before thrusting her stick like a pike into the stomachs of two others. Those four groaned and either toppled to the ground or curled up around their injuries, staying well out of the fight. One more remained, and he had blood on his fist that had likely come from Kili's nose. Rage burned in her veins when she saw that.

"Get away from my nephew, you filthy louts!" she snarled, jabbing her stick towards them. "Get out of here!"

The leader sneered at her, shaking that bloody fist in her direction. "That there is a dwarf you're protecting, stupid halfling. Go get your eyes checked and stay out of this," he said.

"I don't care if he is a dwarf or a dragon," she spat at him, "This is five against one, and I will not stand for it. Get out of here before I whack your skull in, you treacherous weasel." One of the men she had socked in the stomach came at her with a knife, and this time her stick batted the knife out of his hand and then smashed him right in the nose. He fell like a stone, and she whirled her stick back again to menace the leader, who finally conceded the battle, but not without some parting words.

"Watch out, dwarf boy. You won't always have a stupid halfling to protect you. Stay away from here, or we'll be watching," he sneered. He stood firm while his thugs stumbled away, holding a tense staring contest. Billa didn't look away. Finally, he backed off, turning to enter the pub Billa had just vacated.

After a moment or so, Billa relaxed and turned to look at the young, dark-haired, beardless dwarf who had wormed his way into her heart almost as quickly as Frodo had. He had a hand clutched over his bleeding nose, and he was gaping at her with a mixture of relief, suspicion, and embarrassment. After enduring a minute of his gaping, Billa quickly realized she would have to break the silence.

"I hope you are not really injured, Master Dwarf. Are you traveling with anyone who can see to your nose? How bad is it?" She asked kindly, trying to ignore the nerves starting up as her adrenaline faded. Even as young as he was now, at perhaps 59 or 60, he still was a few inches taller than her and several inches broader. She fumbled in her pocket and produced a handkerchief, before tenderly prying his hand away from his nose and turning his face this way and that to inspect his nose in the dim lamplight.

"It doesn't look broken," she informed him as she gently pressed the handkerchief to his nose to stop the blood flow. His hand settled back over his nose automatically and she patted his shoulder kindly. Still, he gaped at her. She wanted to ask him where he was staying and if she could walk him back, but she rather doubted he would speak for a few more minutes, so she had to think of something else.

"Well, Master Dwarf, it's dark and it's not safe for a lass like me to be out alone this late at night." His eyes bulged to discover his rescuer was, in fact, female. She continued cheerfully, "Would you be so kind as to escort me safely back to my lodgings at the Prancing Pony?"

Eyes wide, he only just managed a nod. She took his arm like a courting pair of lovers, whereupon his eyes bulged again, and started to walk towards the Prancing Pony. She smirked inside at rendering the young dwarf so speechless. She had no doubt that he had snuck out to explore against Thorin's wishes and had bitten off more than he could chew on the wrong side of town, and she was very glad that she had been there to help him, for she was really quite fond of him. Still, remembering the way he had teased her in the early days of the Company, she was quite pleased to have shocked him. As they walked quietly, and he darted wide-eyed and confused glances at her, she smiled and hoped that meetings with the rest of the Company would go just as favorably as this one had.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 6

After a few minutes of smugly enjoying Kili's stunned silence, Billa finally took pity on him. After all, it must have been quite a shock to be set upon by several Men, and then rescued by a stranger who was much smaller and totally unknown to him. And, she reminded herself, he had been of age and war-trained when she had met him last. Currently, he looked like a lad in his tweens with still-rounded cheeks and lanky limbs. She smirked as she saw his jaw was totally bare, no wispy beard or stubble at all. Feeling her heart ping with pity for the young lad, she engaged him in conversation.

"So tell me, Master Dwarf, are you by chance a blacksmith, or traveling with one?" His mouth gaped open and shut a few times before he mulishly set his chin and stayed silent. Ah, still so suspicious. What was it with these Durin males and refusing to answer questions? She decided she would have to chatter at him until he broke. Few could withstand her in full chatter-mode, and it was one of the only interrogation methods that Durin males were actually vulnerable to.

"You see," she began, "I was in my smial in Hobbiton, Bag End, very respectable and the best smial in all the shire, having a friend over for afternoon tea - my cakes are the best, Master Dwarf, the secret is to add just a smidgeon of honey when you're setting them out, but I trust you not to share that information - when I heard the most terrible and appalling rumor. I myself couldn't believe it, and actually laughed out loud at the joke, only to discover that Halfast - my gardener, very good man. He has _such_ a way with the tomatoes, he wins prizes every year at the Fair! - actually sincerely believed the rumor was true! Unconscionable. I simply couldn't believe it. Nor could I let the slight to my great great grandfather, the best hobbit smith of the Shire, stand! As his grandson's favorite grandchild -and the only one who inherited both his nose shape and toe-hair curls - I had to defend his honor. I've come all the way from the Shire to prove the rumors wrong, only now I'm here and I've been searching all day and I haven't managed to find a dwarf anywhere-"

At this, Kili faltered. "You mean _you're_ the one who's been asking about us?" She eyed him swiftly, noting how quickly his mouth clamped shut after the involuntary question. Still not broken. Chatter-mode continued.

" _Of course_ I've been looking for you! I arrived last night, and had such a _maaaarvelous_ hot bath waiting for me, and the beds were so perfectly soft after a week on the road! I must have slept for over twelve hours. Then I spent today at the market because, my goodness, my very sturdiest trousers weren't quite sturdy enough for travel - and wearing a dress on the road is just _so_ old-fashioned, you get dirty ankles and all sorts of funny looks, so I simply _had_ to wear trousers, and when I got here they were all worn through - so I spent the day getting measured and fitted and now I have a pair of the most marvelous travel-trousers! Here, look at them!" She paused by a lamp light and tugged on his arm to stop him. They were about halfway down the road, and she could see his resolve to be silent, stoic and suspicious was weakening under the onslaught of completely innocuous conversation. He would break soon. Meanwhile she pointed out a foot and turned her leg this way and that, exclaiming over the new trousers.

"And it's reinforced with leather, isn't that marvelous? And so sturdy, why I bet they could stand up to months of daily travel! The shopman said this leather was taken from his very finest selection of cattle-leathers, isn't that nice? It looks so very fine, doesn't it? And it's all so flatteringly slimming! Why, don't you think that -"

* * *

Inside, Kili was panicking. He _knew_ he'd get into trouble as soon as he had snuck out of his room against Uncle's orders. Uncle had said there was someone looking for them in all the inns, and to remain out of sight no matter what. But he'd been so curious about Bree as he'd never been there before, and Uncle and Fili were out doing _king in training_ stuff as Fili had mocked him before they left. Hurt and angry to be left out, he had snuck away to explore the town. He'd been careful to stay on the opposite side of town, away from where Fili and Thorin were likely to be. He hadn't wanted them to see him, after all. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the side of town where dwarves were not welcome, and he had been dragged away from his table and out of the pub before a gang of men set into him. He had given his best, punching and kicking with all his strength, but then they had drawn knives, and he became very much aware that he was surrounded, outnumbered, and unarmed, and he was probably going to be killed or grievously hurt. Still, he wasn't going to give up without a fight, so he had stood his ground, glaring them down and daring them to finish what they started. It was then that a high-pitched war-cry came from nowhere, and a man-child appeared in front of him, flailing rather effectively with- was that a walking stick?- and defending him.

For a moment, all he could feel was the sweet, almost sickly sense of relief. He wasn't alone, and he wasn't going to die. This was followed swiftly by a swelling tide of embarrassment that drowned any gratitude or friendliness he might have mustered. This creature was so much smaller than him, and yet had been strong enough to drive them off where a prince of the line of Durin had failed! Fili could have saved himself, but not Kili. He was a failure. Kili was reminded, like a punch in the gut, that he was in fact alone, and while this stranger may have protected him for now, that usually meant there was a price to pay. Uncle's bitter words echoed in his mind. _If it seems too good to be true, it is. Never trust an outsider. No one will help you unless you help yourself. Never tell our secrets._ _If you are questioned, remain silent._ Just like that, suspicion rose in his mind. Why had this manchild - halfling?- helped him? What did he -SHE?- want from him?

Just as he was about to demand explanations, she took his arm, batted her eyelashes at him like a coy dwarf-lass, and proceeded to chatter almost non-stop about tea and rumors and _honor,_ and then a question had burst from his lips without thinking, and then she was chattering about _trousers_ and _shaking her leg at him_ and he was so confused and she seemed so _harmless_ and he was starting to feel so beastly for ignoring her and honestly, what would it hurt to talk with her and tell her his name? She'd been so kind after all, and really, it was impossible to be suspicious of her and he felt so bad for doubting her, and when she went to take his arm again after showing off her new (quite handsome, really) trousers, he did the gallant thing and took her hand, bowed low over it and kissed her knuckles. Wouldn't his mother be so proud of his impeccable manners?

"Kili, son of Dis, at your service my lady. You have my heartfelt thanks for your daring rescue and it is my pleasure to escort you wherever you wish."

* * *

Billa giggled over his gallantry and introduced herself in return, but inside, she was smirking at the scoreboard.

 **Chatterbox: 1. Stoic, silent, stubborn son of Durin: 0.**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 7

As Billa and the newly-talkative Kili meandered down the rest of the street, Billa managed to learn that Kili was here with Dis, Thorin, Fili, and a small group of others that included Oin. They were staying at the Prancing Pony, had been there for three days and planned to stay until the end of the week while Thorin and Fili talked with envoys and messengers and learned news from other dwarf kingdoms. Kili, despite his still-bleeding nose (which he would mop at every now and then with her handkerchief in his right hand while she held his left arm), was boisterous and playful, and easily told her everything she wanted to know. For example, Thorin would be working in the forge tomorrow and taking commissions.

"Oh, Mister Kili, that's wonderful," she said cheerfully even as her heart skipped with a little bit of dread. "I've been searching for a dwarvish blacksmith. Are you sure he's any good?" she teased him lightly, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep from leaping to Thorin's defense.

Indeed, he spent the next several minutes singing Thorin's praises. She interjected her doubts every minute or so to keep him going.

"Mister Kili, you've convinced me that he has an eye for design, but I hardly think he'd be able to handle the details. That takes a very careful, patient, delicate hand and I can't say I'm convinced he could do it," she said.

Kili scoffed. "Of course he can do it! No one is so careful and patient as Uncle, and he's got calm, steady hands. Nothing phases him at all!" Kili's admiration and hero-worship of his uncle could not be more apparent.

"I suppose he could be careful enough with the little tools to get the detailing right, but I'm not sure he'd be able to forge anything useful, like a plough or an ax, Mister Kili. Those hammers sound too heavy to lift. Are you quite sure he's strong enough?"

"Oh yes Miss Baggins! He's the strongest dwarf I've ever seen, except _maybe_ Dwalin of course, but Dwalin is a full-time warrior whereas Uncle is a k-," Kili caught himself quickly, "Well, Uncle is a warrior _and_ a blacksmith. He takes care of my family, too. He takes care of a lot of dwarves actually, and if I grow up to be half the dwarf he is, I'll be lucky," Kili finished earnestly.

Billa smiled fondly, decided to stop needling him, and moved on to the next step of her plan- ensuring they would meet again. "You know, Mister Kili, I've been traveling all alone with just a walking stick, some trousers, a hat and a male name for protection. I've thought about learning how to wield a weapon, like a bow or a sword. You seem to be acquainted with a great many warriors. You wouldn't know anyone who could teach me, would you?"

Kili's chest puffed out, and he grinned down at her proudly, "Yes, of course I do! In fact, Miss Baggins, I should introdu-"

 **"KILI!"** An almost-familiar voice boomed out like thunder. Beside her, Kili cringed and her bloodied handkerchief was quickly pressed to his face as he tried to hide his bleeding nose. A dark-haired, blue-eyed dwarrowdam stormed towards them with murder in her eyes. She loomed over Kili and glared, silently demanding an explanation.

"Miss Baggins," Kili mumbled as he looked at the ground, thoroughly deflated, "May I present-"

Billa cut him off. "You must be Mister Kili's parent, Dis," she said with a beaming smile. Dwarf women usually traveled as men and it was rude to blow their cover, but they were also a little offended when others automatically assumed they were male. She hoped the verbal ambiguity of the word _parent_ would be enough to meet both requirements. "Let me tell you what a wonderful son you've raised. I was a little lost down the road a ways, and encountered a spot of trouble. Mister Kili here was kind enough to walk me back. He is so chivalrous. You must be very proud," Billa praised. Kili perked up a little. Dis, looking so much like Thorin, raised an eyebrow at Kili and said nothing, ignoring Billa completely. Faced with such a stern display from this unknown prospect, Billa decided to make her escape while she could.

"Ah look," she said gaily, "Here are my lodgings now. Thank you ever so much, Mister Kili, for walking me back. I very much enjoyed our conversation, and hope I will see you around soon. It was a pleasure to meet you, as well," she nodded towards Dis, hoping to avoid having to say her name and attach a Mister or Madam in front of it. "Goodbye!" she said, and she patted Kili's hand and walked inside.

 _Whew!_ She thought to herself. _That was nerve-wracking. I only hope meeting Thorin tomorrow won't be nearly as bad._ She knew she was kidding herself, but she could hope.

* * *

 **AN:** I took the dates from the Appendices and did the math. The dragon came in 2770. Thorin was born in 2746, which means Thorin would have been 24 years old when the dragon came. That would be like 11 years old for a hobbit, or 6-7 years old for a human! He was just a kid! Which means he wouldn't really be able to remember Erebor with any accuracy at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Note on the story: Kili is 59 right now, which makes him roughly 15 or so for a human. No wonder he's such easy prey for Billa!

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 8

Kili gaped after Miss Baggins as she waved goodbye and flounced away. He felt both heartened by her (mostly false but not quite lying) praise of him, and betrayed by her unexpected abandonment. Then, his mother took him by the ear and he had other things to worry about.

" _Kili!_ " Dis hissed at him as she marched him through the public area of the inn, twisting his ear in her fingers and making Kili cringe. " _Where have you been?_ Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? Do you know what could have happened to you? This isn't Ered Luin! It's not safe here."

Her whole diatribe was delivered in a scathing whisper, but people were staring anyway and Kili's cheeks flushed with shame. Then the door slammed and they were in their rooms. She shoved him down into a chair by the fire and jabbed a finger at him. "Stay here. I'm going to fetch Oin. If you aren't here when I get back, _I will find you_ and then I will turn you over my knee and spank you like the dwarfling you are! So stay!"

The door slammed again and she was gone. Kili groaned and pulled the handkerchief away from his nose to check the bleeding. The handkerchief was soaked through with blood, but the flow seemed to be slowing. It would probably heal faster if he put a cold cloth over his face. He walked to the wash basin, in the far corner of the room and rinsed the handkerchief in the cold water until it was stained pink instead of red. He wrung it in his hands and wiped his face clean of blood before rinsing it again. Then he folded it and put it over his nose, enjoying the feel of the cool water against his face.

Then the door slammed and Kili realized, with a swell of dread, that the washbasin was out of sight of the door, and his mother couldn't see him.

" **KILI!"** his mother screamed, and Kili tripped over himself as he rushed towards her.

"It's fine!" he said frantically, waving the handkerchief at her. "I was just washing up the blood and putting a cool cloth on my face. I promise!" He dove for the chair she had left him in and gripped the armrests tightly. He was already in enough trouble as it was. He _did not_ want to add spanking to the list of probable punishments.

She glowered at him, and her voice came out in a seething hiss. "You are in so much trouble, young man. Oin, see to his face." She whirled away and slammed the door behind her, sparking yells of protest from a few lodgers whose patience had run out. She had probably gone to complain to Thorin and Fili. Kili sighed despondently. Oin just shook his head and started poking and prodding at Kili's face.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 9

Billa fussed and agonized the next morning over what to wear, which was ridiculous and she knew it. Knowing that it was ridiculous only made her frustrated, which made her fussier and she was starting to become distraught. There was a frilly, silly part of herself that was _insisting_ that she wear a dress and leave her hair down like a pretty, proper hobbit lass. The older and wiser part of herself kept arguing that she was here for business, with tough, hobbit-eating dwarves, and the tougher she looked, the more likely it was that this meeting would go well. Finally, she threw the dress against the wall with a roar, and pulled on her trousers before wrenching her hair up into a knot under her hat. She put on her cloak and _glared_ into the mirror. _I can do this,_ she reminded herself. She brought her new satchel, with her oldest set of pans wrapped inside.

The pans were important. They had been passed down in her family for several generations. Her great, great grandfather, one of the few hobbit-smiths in the Shire, had forged them as a courting gift to her great, great grandmother, and they had remained in the family. Billa imagined that they had been treasured for the first few centuries, but by the time the pans had come to her and her parents, they were old and battered and almost falling apart.

In her original timeline, as the dwarves were invading her kitchen and pantry, these pans had been discovered. Fili, in his enthusiasm as a budding blacksmith, had pointed out several faults in the metal and told her that a master blacksmith could make these old pans as good as new. In her discomfort and displeasure at the dwarven invasion, she had been rather sharp with him and snapped that if he was up to it, he was welcome to give it a shot. He had blushed and confessed that he hadn't attained his mastery yet and couldn't quite do the job, before earnestly assuring her that his Uncle Thorin would be able to perfect the pans easily.

Billa had come to give Thorin a chance to do just that - after she goaded him a little bit. Turn about is fair play, after all. For all that she had come to fervently admire Thorin during the quest, she was not at all blind to his various faults.

"More like a grocer than a burglar, indeed," she huffed irritably as she left the inn. "I'll show you grocer, you sour-faced prune!" A couple of passersby eyed her warily before carefully edging away.

* * *

Thorin was scowling as he took out his frustration (and a little bit of fear) on some horseshoes in the forge. Kili had snuck out _against his express command_ and had to be rescued by some halfling lass with a stick. He'd come home with a bloodied nose, and Dis had been practically spitting daggers, she was so angry. The lass had spun some tale about how Kili had rescued _her_ , but one hard stare from Thorin and Kili had confessed the truth.

Thorin glared as he dipped one horseshoe into the bucket of water. It hissed almost as angrily as Dis had when she'd heard the full story. He set the horseshoe aside and started another, reveling in the exertion as he swung his hammer, always hitting precisely where he intended to, and exactly as hard as he needed to. Unlike nephews and politics and the impending winter, this was something he could control. This was something he had _mastered._ It was the only solace open to him right now, because what Kili had done was _spectacularly stupid!_

Apparently, feeling left out was a good enough reason to leave the safety of the rooms when there were strange people asking questions about them, and go off to dangerous parts of town alone and unarmed. It was only after he'd been set upon by a gang of five armed thugs that Kili had realized the brashness of his decision. He'd had to be rescued by a complete stranger, _the stranger who had been looking for them_ , the stranger who had so beguiled Kili that he'd given away their location, their names, and the precise numbers of the party they were traveling with along with their expected itinerary! Not only that, but Kili had told them precisely where Thorin himself was likely to be, and had nearly spilled out exactly what Thorin _was._ It wouldn't take much to put together the information. A little study in dwarvish history, and the stranger would know that The King-In-Exile of Erebor, heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in Middle Earth, was holed up in Bree, almost defenseless. Thorin snarled, and hammered harder.

There had been several assassination attempts spanning the decades after their exile from Erebor. His family had had many enemies, after all. It was very likely that this would be another such attempt, and if Thorin didn't need to complete this order in order to feed his family, he would have packed up camp and ordered them all to flee already. As it was, either he would face another assassin and try to complete this order, or he could flee and his family would very likely starve in the coming winter. Frustrated and already overheated, Thorin flung off his tunic before picking up the hammer again. The tunic wouldn't have done much to hinder a blade anyway, and a forge was no place for wearing armor.

It was a few moments after he'd flung his tunic away when Thorin heard a muffled squeak, and whirled to face the door, hammer in hand. No one was there. Suspicious, he stalked silently, cautiously forward. As he paused, just inside the doorway, he heard quiet breathing, before high-pitched voice spoke softly.

"It's okay Billa, it's nothing to panic about. You've certainly seen a male without a tunic before! You can do this." Confused and more than a little curious, Thorin ever so cautiously poked his head around the door frame to peer outside. Nothing at eye level. He heard a deep, gusting sigh, and looked down. There, crumpled against the outer wall of the forge, was a halfling. It was wearing trousers, but it had long, curly hair that tumbled around its shoulders even as it wrung a hat in its hands. A satchel sat nearby. Judging by the leather that reinforced the trousers, this must be the halfling Kili had met. _Hmmm. Even with those trousers, she looks more like a grocer than an assassin._

"Just breathe, Billa. Muscles are nothing to get so flustered about! It's just _Thorin._ Breathe!" Thorin couldn't resist the smirk that tugged at the edge of his mouth as he took in the very, very red cheeks and ears of the little creature who was so distracted by the sight of him that she hadn't even noticed that the hammering in the forge had stopped, or that she had an audience who was probably the last person in the world she wanted to hear this confession.

The smirk tugged a little higher, and he silently stepped back into the forge before starting to hammer again. He kept one eye trained on the door, just in case the halfling mustered the courage to enter. Silly little creature. He seriously doubted now she had come here to kill him, and half of his frustration melted away. Kili was still stupid, but they might not die because of it.

Finally, a little figure appeared in the doorway. He stifled his smirk, and pretended not to notice she was there. His amusement only grew when she started to make little coughs to announce her presence. He kept ignoring her. She coughed a little louder. He gave no reaction at all. After several moments of the most entertainment Thorin had had in weeks, she had enough and shouted, "Mister Thorin! I'm here to commission a job."

He ignored her for a few moments longer, before taking the tongs and, after turning the horseshoe this way and that to ensure it was perfect, he thrust it into the bucket of water. Taking his sweet time, he finally set it aside and looked up at her.

Her long curls had been swept up and hidden under her hat. She was trying very hard to look him in the eye, but her eyes just kept slipping downwards. Her ears were still cherry-red. It was cute and a little gratifying, and it was almost enough to make him smile.

* * *

Billa was trying her hardest to retain her composure. She tried to keep her eyes on his face instead of his chest, or his arms, or his hands, or his stomach, or his- she tried to keep her eyes on his face. She acknowledged the scoreboard in her head.

 **Billa, 1. Sons of Durin, 1.**

This was going to be harder than she thought.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Consider it disclaimed. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

You know in Star Wars, when Leia kisses Luke just to spite Han, and Luke leans back, puts his hands behind his head, and looks so smug and pleased with himself? Thorin is just dripping that same kind of smugness after the last chapter. It's hilarious.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 10

Billa had lived to a very respectable old age, and had seen many wonders and marvels during her life-time. She'd been known as mad, an adventurer, a ring-bearer and an old maid. In this instance, the description was apt. Despite the slaying of orcs and dragons, Billa was still very much an innocent. Even during her travels with the dwarves, she hadn't really seen much of the male form, for she had always been quick to close her eyes or turn her head away whenever someone's modesty was threatened, as was proper.

This meant that Billa was really quite unprepared for the vision of a half-naked dwarf with long dark hair and bulging, flexing muscles that had greeted her when she had first tried to enter the forge. She had stared for several minutes, utterly entranced by the way the huge, block-like muscles moved under pale skin that glistened with a sheen of fresh sweat. He was clean, save for the new sweat, and the black smudges on his hands and forearms. There was a single dark smudge on his cheeks, which were pink with exertion, and his hair had been tied back from his face with a leather cord while he worked.

On the quest, Billa had come to admire Thorin, and then befriend him. However, faced with his half-bare form that was more muscular and masculine than anything she had ever imagined, Billa was forced, for the first time in her life, to see someone as _really male._ The kind of maleness that made her feel so very, very feminine just because of the differences between them. _The kind of maleness she had never seen before, and really wanted to touch._

She had actually taken half a step forward, hand outstretched, when she came to her senses. Shocked, she fled the forge and collapsed against the wall outside. This was terrible! Her mind was in a haze. She had to snap herself out of this.

"It's okay Billa, it's nothing to panic about. You've certainly seen a male without a tunic before! You can do this," she said.

Of course, the male in question had been her nephew during bath-time when he was just a faunt, but still! This was nothing to fuss over. She'd just had too much sun, or something. Yes, she was over-heated. It had been so hot in the forge, after all. Hot in the forge where Thorin worked... hot in the forge where Thorin lifted his hammer in slooooooow motion, his arm, shoulder, and back rippling as he-

"Just breathe, Billa. Muscles are nothing to get so flustered about! It's just _Thorin._ Breathe!" She had to get this out of her system before she went in to see Thorin. If he ever realized her weakness, he was _more_ than capable of using it against her. He was a clever strategist, and wasn't opposed to using unconventional means to attain his goals. She could almost _see_ the way he would smirk at her if he ever found out how much his body affected her. No, she had to control herself. This would pass, she was sure of it.

After taking several deep breaths, Billa finally hauled herself to her feet. "I can do this," she reminded herself. _I can do this!_ She gathered up her satchel, gripping her pans reassuringly through the tough fabric. She took another deep breath, straightened her spine, and steeled herself. Then she went inside.

She coughed politely to catch his attention, keeping her eyes firmly on a tool hanging on opposite wall. He kept pounding. Perhaps he hadn't heard her? It was loud in here after all. She coughed a little louder. And then louder. Still, Thorin didn't react.

She risked a glance at him. He was staring down, entirely focused on - was that a horseshoe?- whatever it was he was working on. His muscles were-. She looked back at the tool, and coughed again. After several minutes, she was practically hacking, she was coughing so loud. Then she saw it- a teeny, tiny little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

Irritation flooded through her veins. _He was ignoring her on purpose! "_ Mister Thorin!" she shouted angrily before catching herself. She had to at least _try_ to be polite, after all. "I'm here to commission a job."

She stared in disbelief as he kept pounding, before finally - _finally -_ thrusting the horseshoe into a bucket of water and setting it aside, the arrogant sod. Then he turned to face her, folding his arms over his chest in a way that really emphasized -. _Focus,_ she reminded herself. He was staring at her with one eyebrow raised, clearly unimpressed.

"I'm here to commission a job, Mister Thorin," she repeated, hoping that perhaps he would be more polite when talking business than he had been when talking about quests and burglars.

He wasn't. "I'll not have gawkers hanging about my forge, halfling. I work for paying customers only, who have real work to be done." He gave her a sneering up-and-down look, the smug over-sized boulder. "You hardly look like one of those," he said dourly. He turned away and began to poke through a bucket of lumps of metal, clearly dismissing her. _That arrogant, self-important, rude-!_

Fury boiled through her, and before she could stop herself, she had snatched one of the small coin-purses from her pocket and thrown it- at his head. It was something she had never dared to do when she had first met him, but had always longed to, especially when he was being particularly rude or pig-headed. It bounced off his head with a solid thunk, and landed on the floor at his feet. She smirked. _That was oddly satisfying._

At her assault, he had whirled around, brandishing a hammer the size of her head and glaring at her.

"Explain yourself, halfling," he bit out through clenched teeth. She glared right back.

"I _am_ a paying customer, you arrogant buffoon! Or I will be, if you are capable of completing my order, which I very much doubt! I'm only here because Mister Kili insists that you are the best blacksmith for miles in either direction and I intend to prove him wrong!" There. He never could resist a challenge, or the chance to gloat a little when he won. His glare was _thunderous_ now, and she thought that he would very much like to strangle her. He never took well to insults, after all.

"What's the job?" he demanded bitterly. She reached into her satchel and pulled out the old, battered, heirloom pans. She put them on the anvil in front of him, and bent to pick up the pouch of gold on the ground, which she also set on the anvil.

"These were made by my great, great grandfather as a courting gift for my great, great grandmother," she explained. "The blacksmiths in the Shire tell me nothing can be done for them, that they are old and broken and to re-make them would be a waste. It is beyond their skill to re-make these while preserving the original details," she pointed out several embellishments along the outer edge and the handle of each pan. "I have a good deal of influence in the Shire," she looked him straight in the eye. "If you can bring these old pans back to their original glory, I will bring all my future business to you, and others will surely follow." Then, she glared at him and jabbed a finger in his direction. "And if I _like_ you, I'll make sure you have access to the forges in the Shire, and shelter for you or your family whenever you pass through so as to make doing business with you more convenient!" She jabbed her finger twice more for emphasis.

"Well?" Billa asked, "Can you do it?"

* * *

Thorin stared at the halfling for a moment, turning one of the pans over in his hands, deftly feeling out the faults in the old, worn metal. Yes, he was perfectly capable of bringing these pans back to life. It would be a challenge, but a challenge he could rise to. He hadn't done anything so difficult in a long time- most people just wanted horse shoes or nails or simple things like that. This would be _fun..._ but why all of the extra perks? Thorin knew very well that nothing in life was free.

He took a step closer and loomed over her, using his height and bulk to intimidate her into a truthful answer. "Why the extras?" he asked. "Why not just one job?"

He got his answer rather unexpectedly as she stared up at him, wide-eyed. She looked properly frightened, but then she blushed, and looked away. _Ah,_ he thought _, not frightened at all. She just likes what she sees._ Though he had no interest in halfling females, the thought did make him preen a little.

"It's-" She swallowed and started over, looking determinedly away from him. "I have a very respectable reputation in the Shire, Mister Thorin, and no matter how much I want to, I can't leave to see the outside world for any amount of time without risking that reputation. I very much long to see mountains and forests and experience the world, but I can't." She raised her eyes to his. "But maybe, if I can't go to visit the outside world, the outside world could come and visit me." She smiled softly. "I really do need a good blacksmith, and I would very much like to see these pans repaired. Can you do it?" Her gaze was earnest, sweet. Guileless. A curly strand of hair had escaped her hat and was swaying near her still-pink pointed ears. Thorin was a little bit entranced.

"Yes," he said a little hoarsely, before clearing his throat. "Chm. Yes, I can do it." A little off-balance, he snatched the pouch off the anvil and bounced it in his palm. It was gold, he could tell.

"It will cost you two of these pouches," he said sternly. She shook her head firmly.

"You can take that pouch now, and you'll have half of another when it's done. _And,_ if it's up to standard, I'll have another commission for you as soon as you are available. Is that agreeable?" she asked. He stared at her sternly for a moment, before giving a sharp nod.

"I have an order for a previous customer to finish today, but I can start on these tomorrow. This will take a few days, and I've only planned on being here through the end of the week. How long are you staying in Bree?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'm fairly flexible. If I like them, I'll commission the next piece from you at your earliest convenience. Are you going to be traveling back west towards Ered Luin?" She asked. He hesitated to answer for a few moments. She _could_ be an assassin... but he really, really doubted she was.

"We'll be traveling west," he confirmed slowly. She looked down, and fiddled with her hands for a moment.

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble..." she hesitated, glancing up at him shyly, "I've been traveling alone. If it was agreeable to you, perhaps I could travel with your party until you reached the Shire... Mister Kili said there's less than a dozen people in your traveling party. In exchange for protecting and feeding me until we reach the Shire, I would be happy to host your Company for a couple of days, and refresh your supplies before you journey on."

On the outside, Thorin's face was stony. On the inside, he was astonished, and more than a little hopeful. The gold from her commission, and the extra food she offered would go a long way towards keeping them warm and fed this winter. The winter was coming early and showed every sign of being long and harsh. Perhaps they could stay in the Shire more often on their trips back and forth... A few taps with a light hammer to test the quality of this stone was in order. Would this deal sing, or would it shatter?

"Are you certain you have the room for us? Most houses here seem to be small, even for Dwarves. Is it thusly with your dwelling?" He asked. There was no point in agreeing to her accommodations if her accommodations wouldn't be accommodating at all, after all. Oddly enough, she blushed at this.

"Hobbits tend to have very large families. My mother had twelve siblings, in fact. My smial was built with such a family in mind, but I am an only child. When my parents died, it passed to me. There is plenty of room, and my pantries are large enough to feed you for several days before restocking, I am certain. Hobbits eat six meals a day, you know," she smiled a little as she explained. _Twelve children?_ _With six meals each day?_ _How in Mahal's name did they_ feed _that many?_ It took Thorin a few minutes to swallow these facts. He wasn't sure he believed her, but the easiest way to verify her story was to see the truth of it in the Shire.

"And if I was to work in the forges there, whether for you or for another customer?" he inquired.

"You mean for a stay longer than a couple of days?" He nodded. She thought about this for a while. "Well, as long as I was able to contract your services, I would let you stay for free for as long as you need. Your nephews and sister, I would feed and house, in exchange for help around the house or other light jobs. As for anyone else traveling with you this weekend, they enjoy two days free because of your protection on this journey. After two days and nights, they must either earn their keep, pay for their stay, or move on." His eyes narrowed.

"And what, exactly, does 'earning their keep' entail?" He asked suspiciously. Many had tried to enslave his people in the past, thinking them weak or defenseless outside their mountain. They were not so. She, however, beamed guilelessly at him, seemingly pleased to explain.

"Well, for example, Mister Kili mentioned that you have some warriors traveling in your party! Such a warrior could contract with me for a lesson per day, in exchange for food and shelter. Or perhaps I will introduce him to someone who wishes to buy his tutelage, and I take a small percentage of his profit. Or perhaps he pays me in gold or in goods for his stay. I hear you have wood-carvers, artists, story-tellers and even teachers! I can find a use for all of these skills and more, Master Dwarf, either to provide services for free for myself, or to take a finder's percentage if I find someone else to buy those services. It really could all be done on a case-by-case basis. What do you think?"

Thorin was hopeful, and that made him suspicious. If this halfling was honest and kept to her end of the deal, this could be a very good thing for not only his traveling party, but also every dwarf in his care. However, if she was dishonest or greedy and tried to take advantage of them, like so many others had before her, he would ensure that she regretted it. He told her as much.

"If you play us false, halfling, we will take our own revenge against you," he warned her, a fierce and protective light gleaming in his eye, "It will be the last thing you ever do." He stared down at her for several moments. When she opened her mouth to speak, he cut in.

"But- if you keep to the terms of our agreement, I foresee this will be a deal profitable for us both," he said. "I would like to draw up a contract to this effect, but my adviser is in Ered Luin currently."

"Perhaps," she suggested, "We could treat travel to the Shire as a trial run, and iron out a few details while you're staying with me. We can write down what each of us is entitled to in this agreement, and try to think of any issues that may come up and how to solve them. Then, when you leave, you take the papers with you to your adviser. He writes a contract and you bring it back the next time you come through and we can review it together."

He studied her for a few moments with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "Agreed," he said finally. "I will fix these pans for you, for one and a half pouches of gold. _When_ you recognize their superior quality and flawless workmanship," here, he sent her a fierce glare to let her know that her slight to his skills had _not_ been forgotten, "you will commission another piece, which price we will negotiate at the time of its commissioning. This piece will be forged either here, or in the Shire, and you will ensure I have access to a forge in the Shire." She nodded, agreeing with everything so far. He continued. "Furthermore, you will travel in my party, _answering to my authority,"_ he jabbed a finger at her for emphasis, "for your own protection on the journey from Bree to the Shire. In exchange for this protection, you will house and feed my party for two days and nights, free of charge, while I work on your commission. After two days and nights, members of my party will need to move on or work out a payment with you for further hospitality. I will stay free of charge so long as you have access to my _far-superior_ smithing, and my sister's family will only need to provide help around the house or a half-payment so long as they travel with me. Are we agreed?" he summarized the deal as he understood it.

She nodded. "So long as you ensure your party does not destroy or damage anything on my property. If there are damages, I expect the ones responsible to repair or replace them. Agreed?" He glared at her, suddenly insulted.

"Do you think us so barbaric as to bring damage to the one who shelters us?" he almost spat at her. Oh! He was so tired of being looked down on and despised! It was even more unbearable when it came unexpectedly. Things had been going so well. Disappointment cut through him like a blade.

"I mean no offense, Mister Thorin!" she exclaimed. He could tell she was shocked by his reaction. "Mister Thorin, it's just that I've met Mister Kili. He is a boisterous growing lad, and there are antiques and fragile things in my house that are all I have left of my parents. I would like those things to survive, and seeing as he thinks that the sun rises and sets on your command, Mister Thorin, you are the one who can make sure they are respected. I meant no disrespect or offense, Mister Thorin, and I apologize for the misunderstanding," she said earnestly. He could see her logic. After all, she'd had to save Kili from the consequences of his own reckless behavior just the night before. His pride was assuaged, and he was willing to let it go.

"Very well," he said. "We have a deal, Miss Baggins." This was the first time he'd used her name, and he hoped he had remembered it correctly from Kili's rambling explanation last night. He held out his hand to shake.

She beamed widely at him, her dainty hand clutching his with all the strength she possessed. It wasn't very much. "We have a deal, Mister Thorin!"

Thorin, being taciturn by nature, had more than filled his quota of conversation for the day. He had secured a few commissions, earned some gold, and found a place of shelter for the future. The deal was made, and he was done. After they shook, he pocketed the pouch of gold, moved the pans from the anvil to a nearby counter, and went back to the bucket of metallic lumps to start making another horseshoe, completely ignoring his now-unwelcome guest. He heard her snort quietly as she took the hint and turned to leave.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Thorin. It was nice to meet you, Mister Thorin. Yes, the weather looks lovely today, Mister Thorin. Why, you're welcome for saving your idiot nephew, Mister Thorin..." Her voice faded as she left, and he glanced at the door to make sure she was gone. Now that his forge was completely empty and he had no audience, he allowed himself to smirk. For all her bluster, there was one thing for sure.

She was definitely more like a grocer than an assassin.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Note: Growing up with my sisters, we had a hate/love relationship until we had each grown up and moved out on our own. It was only then, when we were mature, that we became _really_ good friends. That's what I'm envisioning for Fili and Kili. Fili likes to tease his little brother and takes pride in being the Heir, and getting to meet and do lots of things before Kili does. Kili is jealous, and tries to prove that he is just as good or better than his brother. They antagonize each other, and it drives everyone crazy.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 11

Billa was very pleased with herself as she walked away from Thorin's forge. Despite his silent dismissal at the end, the rest of the encounter had gone really well. She hadn't burst into tears at seeing him alive, nor cringed away from his bulk in memory of his gold-madness. Most importantly, she hadn't given in to the ever-present urge to touch him. _His chest had hair growing on it,_ she remembered. _It's_ _odd, and yet, enticing._

She had gotten what she really wanted, which was to have her dwarves passing through and get a chance to befriend them, while it looked like she had gotten something she could plausibly want- business with the dwarves and protection on her journey. Thorin had gotten what _he_ wanted, which generally tended to be food, shelter, and wealth for his people. Everyone was happy, and Billa was content with the world. The sun was high in the sky, and she decided to celebrate with lunch.

She walked back to the Prancing Pony, and lo and behold, there was Kili at one of the tables! And who should be beside him but a golden-haired Fili, young and impressionable and just barely starting to grow his mustache. Weren't they just adorable? Mother-bear Dis was nowhere to be seen, so Billa felt it safe to approach when Kili noticed her and waved her over.

"Miss Baggins!" he cried, and he jumped up to bow over her hand again.

"I am in disguise, Mister Kili," she reminded him gently. "Please, call me Mister while there are others about."

He blushed at the mistake, and made to apologize, but she waved him off. "Don't worry Mister Kili! No harm done. Who's your friend? You must be related, for he's almost as handsome as you are." Kili blushed again and rubbed at his chin, ever-conscious of his beardless face but pleased at her compliment.

"Fili, at your service Mister Boggins," Fili said with a bow.

Billa smiled beautifically. "Please, it's Baggins. Pleasure to meet you, Fili."

A glint of mischief was in Fili's eye as he leered at her. "I'm pleased to meet you too, _Mister Boggins_ , Kili has told me so much about you."

"I'm afraid Mister Kili hasn't mentioned you, _Mister Folly_. What lovely braids you have. I know many Shire lasses who would love to know your secret for keeping them so shiny and neat. Are you willing to share it with me?" Billa asked with the sweetest smile on her face. If he was going to get her name wrong, she would return the favor with interest.

Fili got into the spirit of this. His hair was really quite lovely by dwarven standards, and he knew it. Praise was sure to follow. He was the Heir, after all, and the prime example of what a good dwarf should be at his age. "What, only Shire lasses would admire my braids? What about the lads? I'm sure they've never seen anything so fine," he said proudly.

Billa was ready to knock him down a peg. "No, _Mister Folly_. The lads have never seen anything so fine either. Only, males wear short hair in the Shire, so the lasses will want your hair secrets, and the lads will try to kiss you!" She patted his hand gently after implying that his hair (which was his masculine pride and joy) made him look like a girl in her eyes, and then left him to deflate while she turned her attention to Kili.

"So tell me, Mister Kili," she said, "I hope you weren't in too much trouble last night. Is everything all right, or should I expect to be chased away from you with a broom if someone sees me?"

Kili laughed and his cheeks went a little pink. "Not too much trouble," he said, "I'm just doomed not to be left on my own until we leave Bree." He shrugged, "So I'm stuck with this guy." Here, he elbowed Fili, who elbowed him back, and they fell into a little tussle. Billa cleared her throat a few times before they settled down, sending each other irritated looks and noises. Billa decided she really needed to step in. Their little sibling animosity was not what she was used to, and she found it a little ridiculous.

"Lads," she said, "Are you bound to the premises, or are you free to escort me around Bree?"

They shot glances at each other, shrugging. "We are free to leave the premises, so long as Kili is not left on his own," Fili said sternly, a younger, golden-haired version of Thorin.

Billa laughed at the thought. "Wonderful!" she said gaily. "I'll be accompanying you for part of the journey west, and seeing as I've never traveled with a group before, I really have no idea what I ought to pack. I don't want to be a burden, you know. Will you be using ponies?" As she said all this, she was skipping around the table and tugging first Kili from his seat, and then Fili. They trailed after her, her large and hairy ducklings.

They spent the next several hours ensuring Billa would have everything she needed on the journey. She got a few extra satchels to use for saddle-bags, some handkerchiefs, and the boys advised her on the best travel rations to get. She, in turn, noticed that their shirts and cloaks were a little threadbare, more so than she remembered. Perhaps it was a hard year for them? She therefore made a fuss about how it is a hobbit tradition to give gifts when someone has helped you out, or you've made a new friend, and she gave them each a half-pouch and insisted they pick out whatever they wanted from the stores.

When they started to eye the rations store, she stopped them by grabbing their hands and exclaiming, "But first, lunch! I've only been here in Bree for a few days. Where is the best place to eat? My treat!"

Now, it must be said that Thorin or perhaps even Dis would view this as charity, get very angry, throw the gold at her head and then storm away. Fili and Kili, however, were growing boys with growling stomachs, and weren't nearly so immune to her charms. Fili hesitated, and started to object, but Billa would have none of it.

"Isn't it exciting to be so far from home? I have to tell you, this is the furthest from the Shire these feet have ever walked! Do dwarves eat differently than hobbits do? We have six meals a day and still room for tea! I really am starving, lads. And food is always best when you can share it with a friend! I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you this, but I know you both can keep a secret." She pulled them in closer, bright eyes gazing up into their bemused ones. Chatterbox mode was really, really effective on these two, it seemed.

"The secret is," she whispered, "that Thorin has agreed to let me host you at my smial in the Shire for a few days on the journey west!" She tugged them along to a friendly-looking pub. "Isn't that so exciting?" she exclaimed. "I'm so nervous. What do dwarves usually prefer to eat? Tell me what I should expect? Mister Kili here is the first dwarf I ever met, you know. I heard a rumor that dwarves don't have furry feet like mine, so they have to take fur from something else to wrap their feet in! Why do you wear boots? What do boots feel like?" By now they were sitting down, and Fili was too dazzled to keep objecting.

"Three hobbit-sized platters of whatever is on the menu today, thank you," she informed the serving lad. He nodded and swept away to prepare her order. She turned back to the lads. "I'll show you what I mean about hobbit appetites! If you two can finish every crumb from your meal today, I'll do your chores on the journey to the Shire. If you can't, you'll each have to teach me something different about Dwarven culture, history, or a member of your group for every day of the journey. Deal?"

Fili snorted. He especially was known to have a good appetite when food was plenty. He was certain he could blow this little hobbit lass out of the water. "Deal," he said, cutting off Kili who had been about to decline. Kili had a little more experience with Miss Baggins than Fili did, and he figured she wouldn't bet anything unless she was sure she could win.

The platters came out, and Fili and Kili gaped. Billa smiled innocently at them before digging into her meal. An hour later, she was watching and laughing as Fili tried to bring another forkful to his mouth. "'M so full," he groaned.

Kili, who had long since given up and had his leftovers put in a box for later, smirked at him. "Just give it up, brother. I want to go buy some new things, and I can't until you give up!"

Fili groaned, utterly defeated. "Never gonn bet 'gainsta hobbit 'gain," he slurred. He looked thoroughly miserable, and Billa laughed. Her platter was entirely clean - she had eaten every last crumb, and by so doing won the bet. She waved the server over and asked for another box before hustling them out of the restaurant. Fili lagged behind, clutching his stomach.

It was early afternoon, now, and suddenly there was Thorin, marching down the street towards them. His face was thunderous, and she clutched her walking stick closer, trying to stifle the urge to hide behind Kili and hope for the best. At least he was fully-clothed.

"Mister Thorin!" she called, "How nice to see you again!" It was just now that Fili let out another groan, holding his stomach tenderly. Thorin's eyes shot to Fili, and then narrowed.

"What's wrong with him?" he bellowed at her. Billa nudged Kili, and there was a poorly concealed laugh as he answered. "He tried to out-eat a hobbit! We have leftovers," Kili grinned and lifted his box. Billa, recognizing Thorin's reddening face as a sign of impending temper tantrum against charity in the form of free food, interjected.

"It's hobbit tradition to make a meal for a new friend. I don't exactly have access to a kitchen, so this was the best I could do." He glowered at her, but his face was not so red now. The disaster was averted, and she decided to push her luck.

"Will you be my friend, Mister Thorin?" She batted her eyelashes, just a little. Thorin stared at her for a moment, icy blue eyes looking straight through her, before looking away and ignoring her entirely.

"Fili, Kili, with me. Your mother is looking for you." He took them by the scruff of the neck and herded them away like wayward kittens. Billa rolled her eyes and called after them.

"It was nice to see you again, Mister Kili! It was nice to meet you, Mister Fili! Goodbye, Mister Thorin!"


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Note: In this chapter, Thorin finds an unconventional way of taking revenge for what he sees as her charity to his nephews. Poor Billa's cheeks just won't stop blushing! Smug!Thorin.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 12

The next few days followed a pattern. She would wake up clean and refreshed, and then spend a few hours with Fili and Kili wandering around the town and the surrounding hills so as to keep her feet used to heavy walking. Then, when Thorin or Dis (once, it was Dwalin!) tracked them down, she would invite the newcomer to lunch with her.

Thorin and Dis tended to ignore her. Dwalin stared at her for a moment, surprised by her friendliness, but finally said, "Not today, lassie," before dragging the lads away. Then she would wander down to the stables and ask to exercise a pony. At first she had to leave a deposit, but after a few days she could get away with just a smile and some conversation from the old ostler. He taught her some tricks to handling the pony, and once he spent two whole hours working with her until she could mount the pony all by herself. She was so pleased that she brought him a cake the next time she came to see him. His name was Bill.

Two days after she commissioned the pans, she started popping into the forge to ask how they were coming. At first he would just grunt and then ignore her. When she loitered stubbornly, holding out for conversation, he would finally pause and tell her to come back in a few days. Then she would take her leave, but only until the next day.

However, Thorin never seemed to wear a shirt in the heat of the forge, which so flustered her that she started coming earlier and earlier, trying to catch him wearing a tunic in the cooler morning air. Once she came just a few minutes after he had first entered the forge, when the the sun was low and the morning air was chilly. He had been clothed when she followed him from the Prancing Pony, and she held high hopes that she would _finally_ be able to talk at him without distraction. She had only just walked through the door when she saw him reach down and strip off the shirt, his back muscles rippling in a breath-taking display that made her heart pound and left her dizzy. It was one thing to walk in on a shirtless man. It was another thing entirely to watch him take his shirt off! She couldn't hear anything except the pounding of her heart in her ears as she fled the forge. She tried to take refuge with Fili and Kili, but Thorin came to collect them almost right away, and worse, he still wasn't wearing a shirt! She squeaked and, blushing, made her apologies to the boys before fleeing his presence. It was too much!

She took refuge in the stable and the old ostler found her hiding in one of the stalls. Bill took one look at her flaming cheeks and her distraught expression before offering to thump whichever lad was bothering her.

"It-it's not quite like that, Mister Bill," she said, wringing her hands. "It's just- he just-" It was so embarrassing, and hard to say. She forced it out. " _He just keeps taking off his tunic_! And it's so embarrassing, and I don't know where to look, and _he's just so smug about it!"_ She was angry now, and punched a bale of hay with a scowl as she vented to Bill.

Bill had the good sense to hide his laughter behind his hand as he listened. This definitely wasn't the problem he had imagined. He listened for a few minutes more as she ranted about stubborn dwarves and their stupid muscles. It was only when she started to sniffle in distress about how things weren't going at all to plan that he interrupted her.

Bill gently patted her shoulder and produced two brushes from his many pockets. "Come here, lass, and brush out Myrtle with me while I think of some advice for you." She sniffled and nodded, wiping her eyes with a pocket-handkerchief before taking the brush. The pony was warm, and soft, and knickered quietly as both tall old ostler and short young hobbit brushed and rubbed her. The rhythmic motions helped to relax Billa, and her face eventually returned to her natural coloring.

Finally, Bill knew what to say. "It's like this, lass," he started, "Right now, you're the pony and he's holding the reins. He knows exactly what to do to get a certain reaction from you. He kicks in his heels, and you bolt, just like he wants. So you have two options. You can either keep bolting when he kicks in his heels, or you can start bucking. Throw him off and take back the reins, lass!" He gently patted her curly little head. "You're a sweet lass and you deserve the world. But you're also fierce, and you know how to take what you want. Don't be afraid to knock him down a few pegs. If he's a good man, he'll respect you for it, and you deserve a good man. All right lass?" he asked.

Billa couldn't contain herself. She hugged Bill as tight as she could. "Thank you Mister Bill. I'm so glad you're here. May I take out a pony for an extra-long ride today? I'll be leaving in a few days and I want to get over the saddle-soreness."

Bill smiled and patted her head. "Of course, lass. Just come back every few hours and I'll have a new pony saddled and ready for you. You're getting the hang of it! I'm very proud of you."

Billa beamed and held him tighter. A few minutes later, she was up on a pony, trotting through Bree and plotting how best to take the reins back from a too-smug dwarf who deserved to be kicked in the shins.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Now, Billa and Thorin have a little rivalry of sorts between them. Thorin feels like Billa wins when she gets his nephews to accept charity, since it makes him feel like less of a bread-winner. He feels like Billa loses when he can make her blush and go away.

They have to walk a delicate balance. They each want to keep their agreement for shelter at the Shire intact, and so while they are trying to one-up each other, they have to be careful not to really insult each other or that agreement will probably be broken. In this chapter, Billa strikes back, _hard,_ but in such a way where if she offends, it can be brushed off as a misunderstanding and it kind of looks like _he_ is the one in the wrong, while she's just an innocent lass with good intentions. Combined with Kili's conversation, it cuts Thorin deeply, probably more deeply than she intended.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 13

Thorin was frustrated with the halfling. She had been popping her head into his forge, interrupting his work and irritating him _every day._ Furthermore, every day she would take Fili and Kili out to "explore" the town, and they would come back laden with food, treats, and even new clothes or blankets! It was infuriating. They might not be wealthy any longer, but Thorin was _perfectly capable_ of feeding and clothing his own family, thank you very much! No matter how rude he was or how thoroughly he ignored her, she always retained her cheerful, friendly air. _He hated it!_ Why couldn't she take the hint? Why weren't Fili and Kili as irritated by her as he was? Gah!

It was enough to drive him mad. There was one thing, however, that _did_ seem to affect her, and only this advantage and his amusement at her expense kept him from trying to throttle her. He exploited it as often as he could. He felt a twinge of shame when he did so, for displaying himself so thoughtlessly and making her uncomfortable, but he reassured himself that he only disrespected her preferences because she kept disrespecting his preferences by continuing to foist her charity on his family!

He glared when she showed up two days after striking their business deal. Hadn't he told her they wouldn't be ready for several days? Idiot girl! The next day, she came a few hours earlier, and the next a little earlier still. On the fourth day, she actually followed him from the Prancing Pony! When he got to the forge, he quickly stripped off his shirt. This time, instead of coughing to announce her presence and loitering until he told her to leave, she squeaked and fled. _She squeaked! And then ran away as fast as her furry little feet could take her!_

After several days of aggravation, irritation and self-doubt, this was just the thing he needed. He replayed the squeak in his head over and over, and laughed until tears fell down his cheeks.

Knowing that she would seek out Fili and Kili, he decided to ruthlessly exploit her retreat. He went to find the boys, several hours ahead of schedule. There they were, walking towards him. He smirked as the halfling froze, staring at him before her face bloomed like a rose. She turned quickly to the boys, and then ran down the road, away from him. He couldn't suppress a triumphant grin as he walked up to his nephews.

"Come, lads," he said cheerfully as he steered them towards the forge. "It's time for you to learn a little more about my trade."

 **Halfling, 1. Dwarves, 2.**

* * *

The next day did not go nearly so fortuitously as Thorin had hoped. He would finish the pans today, and they were really some of the best work he'd done in decades. He was feeling very pleased with himself, and he doubted he'd be seeing the halfling again until he sought her out.

The first hint he got that things were very, very wrong was the basket sitting on the anvil when he entered the forge. The contents had been covered by a dainty embroidered cloth that he cautiously pulled away. There could be a poisonous snake in there, for all he knew.

Instead of a snake, there were a collection of pastries from the Prancing Pony, still warm, along with a vial of oil, a dish full of strawberries and raspberries, a flask of wine and a note.

 _Dear Mister Thorin,_

 _I was very confused as to why you continually exposed yourself to me despite my obvious reticence, and when I asked your nephews, they explained the significance. Why I am very flattered by your repeated request for companionship, I must decline. It just wouldn't be proper. I mean no insult, but I cannot accept your sexual proposition. Such things are nearly unheard of in the Shire, after all, and my reputation would be ruined. I have every intention of waiting until marriage to engage in such acts, and I hope you can respect that._

He heard some giggles, by the door, but was too horrified by what he was reading to focus on them. Companionship? What proposition? What?

 _Knowing that it must have taken a great deal of courage to make your request, and hoping to spare you the pain of future rejection, I have taken the liberty of assembling some ladies who would be interested in such a companionship with you._ _You are certainly a handsome dwarf, Mister Thorin, despite your advancing years, and I'm sure you're quite capable of winning one of these ladies over.  
_

 _Advanced years!_ he thought angrily. _I'll show you advanced years,_ he seethed. The giggles grew louder as he clenched his fists in agitation, the movement making his arms flex and earning him several admiring coos from the doorway.

 _Having learned that a foul temper is common for a male who has gone too long without companionship, I have taken the liberty of making a reservation under your name for the night at the Prancing Pony, and included in the basket some things I'm told will help in this endeavor. Consider this a show of good-will, and I hope we can put this misunderstanding behind us.  
_

 _I look forward to discussing business on the road, Mister Thorin. Have a wonderful day._

Thorin was beyond angry. He was _humiliated,_ and _stung_ , and angry. His face was white, and what he saw by the door only made things worse. There, invading his forge, was a gaggle of older women of all races, who giggled and waved at him. His face went a funny shade of grey, and he saw red. He crumpled the letter and flung it at the wall. Glaring furiously, he strode through the crowd of women, ignoring their yelps and questions as he pushed them out of his way.

They were scheduled to leave in two days, but they were going to be a member short because he was going to kill her. He was! He'd long considered himself an honorable man who would never harm a noncombatant, especially a female one, but this was no mere antebellum female. She was some kind of demon! He stormed back to his room, people diving out of his way. In his room, Kili was waiting with a nervous but determined look on his face.

"Kili, out," Thorin said sharply. Kili stuck his chin out mulishly, and shook his head.

"Uncle Thorin, we need to talk. It's not fair the way you've been treating Miss Baggins," Kili said. Thorin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not fair? That treacherous little snake had turned even his own flesh and blood against him! "She's a nice girl, and she doesn't deserve to be treated this way. I've never known you to intentionally make a female uncomfortable, Uncle Thorin, and I really don't like it."

The feeling of shame that Thorin had been ignoring since he started teasing the halfling speared through his gut. He felt more like a lout than a king. This was unbearable. He wanted to kill something. He wanted to curl up in a cave and die. Kili was still talking, but Thorin interrupted.

"Kili," he said, voice ragged, "I never meant to make advances on the halfling. I love you very much, but if you do not leave this room right now, I may hit you," Kili's face blanched, shocked. His uncle had never said such things before.

"Kili," Thorin said roughly as Kili opened the door. "Send Dwalin. I very much need to kill something."

Kili nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "Yes, Uncle," he said quietly, before closing the door behind him.

Thorin collapsed onto a chair with his head in his hands. For the first time in decades, he really wanted to cry.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 14

Thorin spent the next two hours hiding in his room, brooding and filled with self-loathing. He only left when Dwalin finally came to drag him out of his misery. The walked out of the gates,then found a clearing outside Bree to spar.

Thorin was so frustrated and angry that he fought rather more recklessly than was safe, and if Dwalin hadn't been as skilled as he was, he would have been dead several times over. In a usual spar, they would fight for a half hour or so, but this was no normal spar. Thorin needed to vent his rage and his energy, and this fight went on for _hours_.

Dwalin called a halt when the sun was high overhead and they were both dripping with sweat and gasping with exertion. Dwalin made sure they both drank some water, but after only a few moments, Thorin's fury and humiliation returned full-force, and he was ready to fight again. Dwalin groaned.

"Thorin, I will not spar with you any longer today, but I will go back to Pony and send along someone else to spend your temper on," Dwalin said, concerned for his shield-brother's well-being. Thorin hadn't fought like this since... well, since the Battle of Azanulbizar. As much as he wanted to reassure his King, he knew that Thorin would not be able to speak of what ailed him until he had thoroughly exhausted himself.

Dwalin hastened back to the Prancing Pony. Thorin had come from Ered Luin with Dis, Fili, Kili, Oin, and two guards, and it was those two guards, Boris and Noris, that Dwalin sent back to Thorin to be used as chew-toys. Hopefully, they could entertain him for a few hours more. Thorin was tired enough that the guards should be able to fight him without truly risking their lives. They might lose a limb, but they wouldn't lose their lives..

Being a loyal friend, Dwalin set out to investigate what had sent his king and friend into such a state. His first clue was Kili, sitting in the public rooms by himself, looking a little green around the edges. It had been Kili who had first informed Dwalin that Thorin needed him, and he had been looking nauseous then, too.

Dwalin, having learned from experience that intimidation only went so far with a son of Durin, didn't try to loom or threaten to get information. He clapped the lad gently on the back and led him out of the Pony, down to the other end of Bree and out the gates to do some light weapons practice. The royals were tough- if they felt threatened, not a word would pass their lips. It was only by earning their trust and friendship that Dwalin had come to be a confidante, and Kili desperately needed a confidante.

After carefully working through a series of forms designed to teach stances and blocks, Kili paused.

"Dwalin?" he asked tentatively, "Is Uncle Thorin all right?"

Dwalin was an honest creature, and told Kili the truth. "I don't know lad," he admitted. "I haven't seen him fight like this since he was in his fifties, in real war. What's happened, Kili?" Dwalin pressed.

Kili looked down. "You know Miss Baggins?" he said softly.

"Aye, lad, I know of her," said Dwalin.

"Well," Kili said, "Uncle seemed to be making advances towards her, and... not the proper kind. She's only just come of age, you know," he said, looking up earnestly, "and yesterday, Uncle flustered her so badly that she actually ran away, and I didn't see her for hours. She asked me for advice, and I explained to her what you and Uncle Thorin told me, about displaying your body and what that means." Dwalin closed his eyes. It wasn't uncommon among dwarves to remove a few layers and display some skin to someone they wanted to seduce. Such things were rarely done in a courtship, but for those simply looking for physical companionship. On the other hand, Thorin spent all day working up a sweat in a hot forge. He may have simply been over-heated and taken off his shirt. Dwalin could easily see how this could have spiraled out of control.

"So I decided to talk to Uncle Thorin," Kili continued. "He came back from the forge almost immediately after he left, he took me by surprise. He already looked furious, but I knew I had to say my piece. I told him she deserved to be treated better, and that I'd never seen him try to make a female uncomfortable before, and that I didn't like it. I went on to explain, but he cut me off and told me he loved me, but I had better leave before he was tempted to hit me. Then he told me to find you. That's all I know, Dwalin." Kili hung his head. "Did I do wrong, Dwalin? Will Uncle Thorin ever forgive me?"

Dwalin sighed, and sat down with his back against a tree, and tugged Kili down to sit as well.

"Kili," he said, trying to channel Balin and choose his words carefully, "Whether your uncle was over-heated in the forge, or whether he was trying to proposition Miss Baggins, I do not know." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I think your heart was in the right place, lad. It is right to defend a female's honor, and it's especially right when the one you think is taking advantage of her is a powerful dwarf. No matter what his intentions were, Thorin was terribly embarrassed, and no dwarf can bear that easily. He will fight and stew for several days, lad, but you're still his nephew, and he cares for you. Do not worry too much, laddie. It'll all work out," Dwalin finished, rather proud of his little speech. He could see Kili considering his words.

Dwalin clapped him on the back again, and helped him up.

"Come on, lad," he said, "Let's get back to the Pony. I've some errands to run, and you've got a lot to think about."

After leaving Kili with Dis at the Prancing Pony, Dwalin went up to the forge where Thorin had spent only a few minutes before storming back. It was empty, but as he peered inside, he saw an overturned basket, with pastries, a flask, a smashed vial, and little fruits littering the floor. How curious. Against the wall was a crumpled letter. Dwalin picked it up and smoothed it out, before carefully reading it.

 _Dear Mister Thorin,_

 _I was very confused as to why you continually exposed yourself to me despite my obvious reticence, and when I asked your nephews, they explained the significance. Why I am very flattered by your repeated request for companionship, I must decline. It just wouldn't be proper. I mean no insult, but I cannot accept your sexual proposition. Such things are nearly unheard of in the Shire, after all, and my reputation would be ruined. I have every intention of waiting until marriage to engage in such acts, and I hope you can respect that._

 _Knowing that it must have taken a great deal of courage to make your request, and hoping to spare you the pain of future rejection, I have taken the liberty of assembling some ladies who would be interested in such a companionship with you._ _You are certainly a handsome dwarf, Mister Thorin, despite your advancing years, and I'm sure you're quite capable of winning one of these ladies over.  
_

 _Having learned that a foul temper is common for a male who has gone too long without companionship, I have taken the liberty of making a reservation under your name for the night at the Prancing Pony, and included in the basket some things I'm told will help in this endeavor. Consider this a show of good-will, and I hope we can put this misunderstanding behind us.  
_

 _I look forward to discussing business on the road, Mister Thorin. Have a wonderful day._

Dwalin couldn't contain a few snorts of amusement as he read through the letter.

Either the lass was a complete innocent with an unfortunate way with words, or she was a sharp-tongued damsel who had taken careful, creative revenge for her repeated embarrassment at Thorin's hands. In this letter, she had managed to reject something that Dwalin was fairly certain Thorin had never really been offering, and out-maneuver him so thoroughly that she'd probably never see him without a tunic again. She'd also managed to imply he needed help getting a woman, that he was old as well as foul-tempered, and that she thought he hadn't managed to get laid in a very long time. The reservation of a room under his name would have been adding insult to injury, and then coming back to Kili's confrontation must have been the last straw.

Dwalin read the letter twice more, laughing a little louder each time, before folding it and stashing it away in one of his inner pockets. This was a gem, and he was going to have to keep it. Thorin could get himself out of this trouble, and there was no real threat. And, Dwalin decided, the next time the lass invited him to lunch, he would definitely accept.

 ** _Miss Baggins: 2. Thorin: 2._**


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Thorin's a little less stoic and oaken-faced in the beginning of this chapter, like we all get when we are super exhausted and emotionally vulnerable. Aww. (Stony-faced? Oakenshield? Oaken-faced! Get it? :D)

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 15

After the humiliating fiasco in the morning, he had sparred with Dwalin until noon. Boris and Noris had given him an hour's relief each, followed by Dis, and then Fili. Just as he was ready to surrender and go back to the Pony to sleep it off, Dis had asked what was bothering him. Dwalin, curse his hide, had said with a smirk that _Thorin's suit had been rejected._

Immediately frothing at the mouth again, Thorin had denied it loudly and launched into a vicious attack. Dwalin had put up a fight in good humor, but when the sun started to set, he carefully disarmed Thorin. By this point, Thorin's limbs were weak and shaky, he was soaked in sweat, and he had trouble walking in a straight line. He staggered after Dwalin to the Prancing Pony, cursing at Dwalin's back as he went. He had run into Kili in the hallway, and pulled him into a trembling hug.

"I love you, Kili," he mumbled weakly, deeply regretting the angry words he had spoken that morning. "You're a good lad and I'm proud of you." Kili squirmed out of the hug, his nose wrinkling at Thorin's stench.

"I love you too, Uncle," he said, taking one of Thorin's arms and putting it around his shoulders. "Let's get you into a bath."

"There's a good lad," Thorin mumbled, leaning heavily on his nephew. "Such a good lad. Not like Dwalin, that dirty snake." Thorin's voice trailed off as Kili guided him to his room. He helped Thorin strip off his wet, sweaty clothes. "Don't let her see!" Thorin said, suddenly alert and looking around warily. "She'll laugh at me if she sees."

Kili was confused, but quick to reassure his Uncle. "Don't worry, Uncle Thorin," he said, "There's no one else here. Here, now, Uncle. The water's a little cool, but that should soothe your muscles."

Kili helped Thorin into the bath, whereupon Thorin sunk down until his nose was just above the water, looking dejected. Kili was a little alarmed, having never seen his Uncle like this, but he remembered how weak and silly he had sometimes gotten after a too-long spar or trek. Uncle Thorin would take care of him then, and it was time to return the favor.

Thorin sat there like a gloomy, exhausted log while Kili soaped up a rag and started to scrub down his shoulders, chest, and back. He carefully washed the sweat out of Thorin's hair and beard, then gently washed his face and neck. Then he soaped up his feet and calves, and coaxed an exhausted Thorin into doing the rest. Then, he helped Thorin up out of the bath and guided him to the bed, where Thorin collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Feeling oddly paternal, Kili put a pitcher of water and a cup on the night-stand, and then pulled the covers over Thorin's already-snoring body.

* * *

When Thorin woke up he was stiff, and sore. His head ached and his mouth was dry, and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. But, judging by the sun peeking through his window, he'd already overslept. Having lost a full day's work yesterday, he'd have to work doubly hard to finish the commission and prepare the company for travel. They'd be leaving tomorrow, and that she-devil was coming with them. _Not,_ he reassured himself crankily _, if I kill her first._

He groaned, every muscle in his body protesting as he slowly sat up. _Damn that woman,_ he thought as he cradled his head in his hands. He downed the glass of water that someone, probably Kili, had left on the night-stand, pouring several more. He stood up with a groan. He moved with a groan. He bent over to put on clean clothes, moaning and groaning like a mooing cow. Everything ached. He hadn't pushed himself this hard since the last time he had actually fought in war. He indulged himself by moaning and limping around the room, gathering the things he needed to finish the commission today. However, as soon as he opened the door and left his room, his back was rim-rod straight, his gait precise, his face stony. He was the King, and kings don't feel such petty things as aching muscles or exhaustion.

He made his way out of the Prancing Pony, nodding stoically at those in his party as if he _hadn't_ spent the previous day trying to murder them in broad daylight. He made his way to the forge, cloaking himself in icy hauteur just in case the she-devil appeared. He spent the day in the forge, finishing her pans instead of mutilating them like he really wanted to. No matter how hot it got, he kept his tunic on, and every time his shirt clung uncomfortably to his sweaty body, he cursed the she-devil. Imagining throttling her was swiftly becoming the only way to soothe his injured pride.

It was late afternoon by time the pans were finished. They were beautiful and flawless, and if she didn't consider them up to standard, he would probably use them to kill her.

He walked back to the Pony, very carefully _not limping_ , and charged Kili with delivering the finished pans to the halfling.

"She'll give you a half pouch of gold for these, Kili," he said, as they sat at a public table. He was strictly pretending that the previous day had never happened, and Kili quickly caught on. He brought out the pouch she had first paid him with, already half-empty from buying supplies for the journey. "Bounce this in your hand, lad. What she pays you should feel like this."

Kili examined the pouch and weighed it carefully in his hand before handing it back to Thorin with a nod. "Yes, Uncle Thorin," he said. "I'll take care of it."

"Kili," Thorin called as Kili started to leave, "Remind her to be ready to leave at dawn. If she's not at the stables by the time we leave, we leave without her," he said sternly.

Kili nodded and sped out the door. Thorin savored the feel of the chair under him as he lingered for just a minute longer. Unfortunately for his aching body, he needed to find Dwalin and Dis, to make sure they were totally outfitted for the journey. Thorin didn't groan as he hauled himself back to his feet, but he wanted to.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 16

After arranging her revenge, Billa had been very careful to be extra sneaky. She had snuck away from the forge, sticking to the shadows before ducking into the post office to send her letters.

 _Dear Uncle Isumbras,_

 _I made my way to Bree, and have made the most wonderful discovery. I've found a most-superior blacksmith whose work I think you will greatly admire. I'll be starting my journey back to the Shire in two days, and we should arrive 5 days hence. I would like to invite you to afternoon tea with our guests on Saturday, where you may examine the smith's workmanship for yourself. I've informed him that, should his work be sufficient, we could accommodate him in one of the Shire forges when he passes through on his journeys. I'm certain that when you see what he's done to restore your grandfather's courting pans to grandmother, you'll be just as pleased as I am.  
_

 _I'll be traveling back with his party for protection, and his sister Dis will be looking after me (_ That was a bit of a stretch, but it would make things sound a little more respectable) _._

 _I've really enjoyed my little holiday, Uncle. Thank you for looking after things while I was gone._

 _Fondly, your niece Billa_

 _._

 _Dear Mister Gamgee,_

 _I'll be arriving at Bag End on Friday the fourteenth, along with a party of 8 traveling companions. In Bag End, in the blue jar on the mantle is a stash of funds that I left behind just in case. Would you please be so kind as to use those funds to arrange for my pantry to be full and fresh when I return?_

 _I'd be ever so grateful, Mister Gamgee. You are a wonderful hobbit and I am in your debt!_

 _Billa Baggins_

 _._

After she entrusted the letters to the post messenger, she cautiously peeked out the door. There was Thorin, and his face was _white_ with rage. She stuffed a fist into her mouth to muffle her breathing, leaning into the shadows by the door as he passed, stomping away. She stared after him for a moment, before giggling with glee as she skipped down to the stable. She spent the day on horse-back in the hills around Bree, safely out of his reach.

That night, she had strange dreams. Thorin was standing over her, the fire in the hearth casting menacing shadows over his face. She was a little frightened, but also excited. She squirmed to get away, but couldn't move. He was glaring, looming over her, and then-

Billa bolted upright, blinking blearily. _What an odd dream,_ she thought, rubbing her eyes. She dressed and carefully packed her things. They'd be leaving tomorrow morning, after all. She bit her lip, wondering how the trip would go. She was mostly sure that Thorin wouldn't break their deal, and she was certain that, no matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn't take his anger out on her physically. Not this Thorin, at least.

Since they were leaving tomorrow, she needed to find out when and where they were meeting, as well as check up on her pans. When she walked by the forge on her lightest, sneakiest feet, she glanced in and saw with a smirk that he was wearing a tunic today. _Mission accomplished,_ she cheered herself, ignoring a strange pang of disappointment. Things would be back to normal in no time.

* * *

Later that evening, there was a knock on her door. She froze like a startled rabbit, sincerely hoping that it was _not Thorin,_ before mustering her courage to answer the door.

"Mister Kili!" she cried, relieved. "Come in! How are you? I've missed you these past two days. Is everything all right?" She beckoned him into the room and he stood awkwardly by one of her chairs, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"Miss Baggins," he began, his eyes flicking briefly up to meet hers before sinking to the floor again, "I wanted to apologize for my Uncle's actions. I don't think he meant to make you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry that he did. I've spoken with him, and I'm certain there won't be such a problem again." His feet shifted, bashfully digging a toe into the carpet. Billa thought her heart would melt at the sweetness of his gesture.

"Oh, dear Mister Kili," she wrapped her arms around him in a tight, brief hug. "Thank you ever so much for speaking for me. I know how much you admire your uncle, and to intercede on my behalf must have taken a great deal of courage. I'll trust your judgment of Mister Thorin, and I hope we can put the past behind us."

Kili smiled shyly at her, pleased at her reaction. "Uncle's finished your pans," he told her eagerly. "He sent me to show you, and to tell you we are leaving at dawn tomorrow, and we'll meet at the stables." He lifted the satchel he'd been carrying, and Billa heard the clanging of metal inside.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Show me! I'm so excited to see them."

They sat down by the fire, and Kili slowly brought each pan out while Billa oohed and aahed over them, truly impressed. They looked brand new, the embellishments of flower chains around the edges were clear and beautiful, and the walls of each pan were thick, even, and smooth. On the bottom of each pan, next to the engraving that her great great grandfather had left as his mark of craftsmanship, was Thorin's personal seal, tiny and perfect in miniature.

"Wow," Billa breathed, in awe of the workmanship. She gazed up at Kili, eyes wide, holding a pan limply in her lap. "You were right, Kili," she admitted. "These are the most beautiful pans I've ever seen, and Mister Thorin is an incredibly skillful blacksmith with the finest work I have ever had the pleasure to view."

Kili grinned at her, visibly pleased with her praise of his idol. After she reminded him of the late hour, they parted on friendly terms, each hoping that tomorrow's journey would be a positive experience for everyone.

Unfortunately, both of them knew it was highly unlikely.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Dear reviewers: Please tell me what you like in the story, what you dislike, and what you hope will come! You encourage me to keep writing. Thank you.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 17

Billa was grateful for the mechanical alarm clock that woke her early that morning, for it allowed her to get to the stables half an hour before the others. She helped Bill to brush and saddle the ponies before sharing a fond goodbye.

"Thank you for everything, Mister Bill," she said gratefully. "The advice, the lessons, and the conversation are all things I will cherish."

If Bill's eyes were a little misty when she hugged him, he wasn't ashamed. He patted her curly head fondly, and told her to come visit the next time she came to Bree.

Then, the dwarves were arriving. First Thorin and Dwalin, looking fierce as they looked over the ponies, double-checking all the equipment in case of sabotage. Billa rolled her eyes discreetly to Bill, who smiled. Then Oin, and two dwarves she didn't know, followed by Dis who dragged a yawning Kili along with her as Fili stumbled sleepily after her.

"Mount up!" Thorin called after helping Kili into the saddle. He nodded Dwalin towards her, obviously expecting she would need help too. She chose that very moment to pull herself up into the saddle, settling herself expertly amongst her saddle bags, before smiling primly, innocently at Thorin and Dwalin. Dwalin smirked a little, but Thorin glared at her balefully for a moment, before looking away. His hands twitched at Dis and Dwalin, and they led the others away from the stable and out onto the main road out of Bree. Thorin heeled his pony over to her with a sour look on his face.

"Miss Baggins," he said shortly, and she could see his right hand spasming in and out of a fist. "I apologize for any confusion or embarrassment I may have caused you. It was not my intent, and I have made no advances towards you."

Billa stared at him, wide-eyed, before quickly nodding. "I accept your apology of course, Mister Thorin! I'm so terribly sorry for misunderstanding. I hope I have not damaged things irreparably between us?"

Thorin's face twitched into a snarl, before he smoothed it out again. "Not at all , Miss Baggins." He made to ride on again and Billa quickly spurred her pony to follow him. He wouldn't escape her so easily!

"Mister Thorin!" she exclaimed as she came alongside him, "Mister Kili brought the finished pans to my room last night. They are beautiful! Exquisite! Completely beyond what I'd hoped for. I sent a letter to the head of my mother's family, who holds a position of some import in the Shire. I've invited him to tea on Saturday so he may see your work for himself. I'm certain that when he sees them, he will have things of his own to commission, and all his friends will quickly follow suit of course. I am afraid you shall have quite more work than you'll have time in the day, once people see the wonderful things you can do. I'm so pleased, especially since I really thought they would be impossible to fix, and I'm so glad you proved me wrong! These pans will be cherished for generations, I'm sure of it. In face, I wouldn't be surprised if I get proposals just from how lovely they loo-"

"Miss Baggins," Thorin said, his voice cold. "The journey will be quite long and tiring, and I suggest you save your energy. Kili tells me you've never ridden a horse before you came to Bree, and you'll soon find it can be exhausting." Obviously thinking he had silenced her, he made to ride on. Indeed, when she first met him, that tone of voice would have certainly silenced her, but she had since faced far worse things than a grumpy and taciturn dwarf. She pretended he was offering genuine advice and kept up with him.

"Oh, Mister Thorin!" she said cheerfully. "How sweet of you to be concerned for me. Fortunately for us both, as soon as Mister Kili told me we would be riding ponies on the journey back, I took it upon myself to learn how to ride, and to get past the saddle soreness! I'm sure I'll be a little tender tonight, but not nearly so bad as it could have been. I've done my best to prepare, Mister Thorin. I didn't want to be a burden, and I'm so grateful that you're taking me with you! I only hope a few nights in the Shire and some of my home-cooked meals will restore your group, as I've heard that traveling such long distances can leave a body truly exhausted. In fact, who in your group will be cooking? I've been meaning to offer my services. Oh, Mister Thorin? Many of the plants we come across are in fact good for eating. If you like, I can gather along the path to increase our supplies." She paused, and waited for his reply.

After a moment, his voice came through gritted teeth. "Greens are our least favorite foods, Miss Baggins, but by all means, feel free to _forage_." His tone was biting, and obviously mean to discourage her from doing any such thing, but she took it as permission.

"Wonderful, Mister Thorin! I shall gather as much as I can, just in case. Tell me, sir, are there any among you skilled with a bow, for game is plentiful in these parts, and we are likely to come across a few rabbits at least," she said helpfully.

At this, Thorin perked up. "Kili, Dwalin," he called ahead, spurring his pony ahead of her. She followed quickly. "Make your bows ready. There may be game on the trail." He himself strung a bow and produced a quiver of arrows.

"Boris, Noris," he said, "Take up scouting positions ahead and beside us. Hopefully your noise will scare something onto the path. Everyone else," here, he cast a smug glance at Billa, "be silent or you may scare the game away."

She grinned to herself at the back of the formation, acknowledging his clever escape. They rode in silence for the rest of the day, and shot three rabbits and two squirrels. Billa waited for the hunters to split open their kills and pass around the offal, as was dwarven travelling custom, but Thorin and Kili had a quick finger argument, which Thorin conceded with bad grace, and the animals were simply hung from saddle-bags until they made camp. Billa was relieved, as she had forgotten that custom and was rather out of practice. She resolved to practice discreetly once they made the Shire, so she wouldn't make a fool of herself the next time it came up.

When the sun was going down, Billa rummaged around in her saddle bags and, sitting cross-legged in the saddle, held a bowl in her lap where she carefully mixed flour and other ingredients from her travel rations with water from her water-skin into dough.

Once they made camp, Billa made herself useful at once by skinning and gutting them the creatures, asking Fili and Kili to cut the meat into cubes while she diced the greens and tubers she had found along the road into much smaller pieces. When the fire was ready, she set up a deep stewing pot, a short, wide frying pan, and a sauce pan. She added the greens into the stewing pot with spices and some dried corn from her rations which boiled for several minutes while she cooked the meat in the frying pan. She put the bread dough into the sauce pan, carefully setting it amongst the coals to rise and cook as well. When the meat was cooked through she poured it, grease and all, into the pot of greens and so made a stew. She let it cook a while longer until the bread was done.

When everything was ready, she let out a sharp whistle to let them know the food was ready, and the dwarves eagerly flocked around. Bowls were passed out and bread was roughly hewn from the makeshift loaf, followed by moans of appreciation upon tasting her food. And when there were second and third servings to be had, Thorin sent her a brief glance of respect. She had managed to make a large, filling, _tasty_ meal with just things they had found on the road today. Aside from the bread and the corn in the stew, they hadn't had to dip into their rations at all.

Thorin's belly ached pleasantly. He hadn't eaten such a hearty meal on the road - ever, and despite himself, Thorin was impressed. _Maybe having the chattering halfling on the road wouldn't be such a terrible thing, after all,_ he thought. Then, she sat down next to him and began talking again, and he groaned. _Nope,_ he thought, _still a terrible thing._


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 18

The group that rode into Hobbiton in the early afternoon on Friday was sopping wet, irritable and exhausted. They had woken up to heavy rainfall, and Thorin had been tempted to try and find shelter to wait out the storm, but Billa reminded him that there would be hot baths, soft beds and as much food as they liked if they made the last stretch of the journey to Bag End. That had convinced the group, and they had pushed the ponies as fast as they could along the East Road, and made good time despite the mud.

The rain was still coming down in sheets as they rode up Bagshot Row. Billa guided the ponies to the pasture behind her smial, and shouted instructions over the rain as they dismounted.

"Boots off when you come through the door!" she yelled, "And cloaks on the coat-rack! Nothing in my house is as sturdy as you are, so please treat things gently!"

After Billa unlocked the door, Fili made to dash into shelter immediately, but Thorin seized his shoulder and glanced significantly down at his boots. Fili sagged a little, but did as instructed while the others waited in the downpour. One by one, they each obeyed Billa's instructions and entered the house, Thorin and Billa coming last. Billa touched his shoulder just before he entered.

"Thank you," she said quietly when he turned to glance imperiously at her. He gave a dismissive nod, ignoring the way her hair curled damply against her neck, or the way her wet tunic clung in places and turning his attention to her house, or 'smial' as she'd called it. It was not what he'd expected.

Instead of the stone halls he longed for or the flimsy wooden huts men seemed to favor, this was a warm bolt-hole, well-made, obviously cared for, and clean. Despite the fact that none of the dwarves had ever been here before or seen anything like it, they all seemed to relax a little as they looked around. Thorin could see why. For all her chattering and pestering, Billa Baggins certainly was welcoming, and her home felt welcoming too.

"Welcome, guests!" Billa cried cheerfully after she finished wiping her feet. "This smial was built by my father as a wedding present to my mother, and to earn her father's approval. He wanted it to be the finest smial in all of the Shire, and it is. I've received several marriage proposals from complete strangers, all more interested in my smial than in me," She joked.

'It's very fine, lass," came Dwalin's voice from the back of the group, "But where is the food and the beds?"

Billa laughed. "This way, honored guests. I'll show you to your rooms first, and then get started on dinner." She directed them down the hallway, opening all the guest room doors and letting them choose for themselves where they would stay. "The baths have hot water, and if you leave your dirty clothes in the bins by the baths, they'll be washed and returned to you."

The dwarves shuffled into their rooms on their strange socked feet- _Socks,_ Billa thought, amused, _like hats for your feet!-_ and Billa walked promptly into her room, where she put on a dry tunic and wound her hair into a knot on top of her head. She rinsed the dirt from her face and arms, and then promptly went to the first pantry.

Mister Gamgee had indeed come through for her! Her first pantry's shelves were filled to bursting, and when she went through the hidden door to the second pantry, she saw the same. Mister Gamgee didn't know about the third pantry, but it was still stocked with well-preserved meats and grains, an emergency store in case of another Fell Winter.

Billa painstakingly rolled her (rather impressive) collection of ales and wines into the second pantry, leaving only one keg in the first pantry. She'd provide ale, but not enough to get drunk on. There was a pub for that, thank you! She closed the second pantry, and started ferrying food from the first pantry to the kitchen and the table.

After only 10 minutes, dwarves started showing up. First Dwalin, then Fili and Kili, Oin, Boris and Noris. Dis and Thorin took the longest, and when they came they were well groomed and clean, having obviously taken advantage of the baths. Billa, seeing that there was more than enough food for everyone, told them to help themselves, eat as much as they liked, and that she would be making breakfast at 6 and at 8:30 tomorrow, followed by elevensies at 11, Luncheon at 1, afternoon tea at 2:30, dinner at 4 and supper at 7.

The dwarves froze, gaping at her with forks on the way to their mouths or, in Kili's case, with his mouth hanging open with half-chewed food spilling out. Billa wrinkled her nose, and Kili quickly closed his mouth and kept chewing.

"Enjoy your food and your beds, my friends. If anything is lacking, mine is the room with the blue door and bronze handle, knock and let me know. Hobbits take hospitality very seriously, and I want you to enjoy your stay. Feast, everyone! I'm going to get cleaned up."

She waited for a moment, to see if they had any questions, but Kili burst into applause and the other dwarves soon followed, even Thorin clapping a few times before turning to his food.

Recognizing the dismissal for what it was, Billa curtsied, and then retreated to her rooms and ran a hot bath, gratefully stripping off her damp, clinging clothes. She soaked for almost an hour, even draining the tub after she washed the muck off and drawing a clean bath just for enjoyment. Her curls hung over the edge of the bath, drying while she luxuriated in her peach-and-apple scented bath salts.

After she dried off, she considered her closet. She started to reach for her trousers, but... _There's no need,_ she reminded herself. _I am here, in Bag End, as Miss Billa Baggins, and I have already proven I am no wilting flower. I can wear whatever I like!_ Convinced, she reached instead for one of her finest dresses, the deep blue, tightly cinched wonder that she had worn to her coming of age party. She wore her finest corset over the top, and brushed out her curls with a few drops of oil until they shone in the lamplight.

As she looked into the mirror, Billa felt a warm little glow. She looked more like a proper hobbit lass than she had in what felt like a lifetime. She looked beautiful, and as she took in the looks of shock on the dwarves faces when she walked back into the dining room, she _felt_ beautiful, too.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Long hair one way of telling how wealthy/healthy someone was, how regularly they were fed, how well they take care of their hygiene. All good things to know if you want to make babies with someone. Dwarves and elves keep their hair long, but seem to have only straight hair. So, Thorin finds Billa's long, curly hair to be exotically entrancing, as well as enticing because it indicates her health and wealth.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 19

Thorin blamed her cooking. Having such a full stomach must be diminishing his mental capacity. Or perhaps hobbit-made ale was stronger than dwarf ale. Maybe this journey had been unusually exhausting, or perhaps spending several hours riding against the rain had worsened his health. Perhaps it was the warmth and welcome that her home exuded, something he hadn't seen or felt since a lad in Erebor. Or, if he was honest with himself, (which he was trying very hard not to be) perhaps it was just that the hobbit filled out that dress in a way he'd never seen before.

Had her laugh always sounded like a handful of tiny jewels being poured into a golden goblet? Had her waist always been so slim? Her hips and chest so ample? Had her hair always been that long, or shone that way in the firelight? He blinked and looked away. Then Kili made her laugh again and Thorin was once more entranced by the way the lamplight reflected in her eyes, and the way she moved her hands as she sat snugly between his nephews, teasing them and warning them about hobbit courtship rites and overprotective fathers with shovels and pitchforks. Then Dis interjected, and the moment was shattered with her question.

"Are you intending to court one of my lads, then, _Miss_ Baggins?" Her voice was glacial, and from her clenched fists, Thorin could tell that she was serious, and had likely been stewing about this for quite some time. Kili perked up. Miss Baggins paused, taken aback, and then laughed.

"No ma'am!" She said cheerfully, as if there had been no threat behind Dis's words. Kili noticeably wilted. "All the males in your family are extremely handsome, and any girl would be lucky to have them, but by the time Fili or Kili come of age, I'll be considered something of a spinster or an old maid. I'm only thirty-three, you know. Hobbits generally only live until one hundred, though my family occasionally manages a decade or so more. By the time your sons reach their hundreds, I'll be getting old and wrinkled. So no, I don't warn them for my sake," she said, nudging Fili and Kili fondly, "I warn them for the sake of the Shire-lasses who have never seen such handsome, gallant, and wonderful boys like ones you've worked so hard to raise. These boys will have to fend off the girls with sticks, just wait and see," she finished, a smile on her face as she teased the boys.

Dis sat back, her mother-bear instincts soothed. Fili and Kili looked a little shocked at how short Billa's life would be, but Thorin was impressed (He was also ignoring the thought that, unless he died in battle, he probably had 70 to 100 years of life left, too).

No matter how rude, cold, or dismissive the dwarves were, this halfling never seemed to break. She never took offense or had to raise her voice. She never fled the fight, either. She responded calmly, warmly, and kindly. It was something he'd never seen before, and the results were impressive. If it had been another dwarf that Dis had questioned that way, they would have exchanged insults and slurs before escalating into blows, possibly with weapons bared. The surroundings would be demolished, and Oin's medical expertise would be absolutely necessary. They might have been kicked out of the house, back into the rain, with no extra supplies and nowhere else to go, in an unfamiliar area with no guide. And yet, because of the halfling's seeming inability to recognize an insult, the matter had been settled moments after it had been raised, they were still all welcome, and they had learned a great deal about a new ally and possibly, a friend. Even more amazing: the halfling seemed to have earned Dis's respect. When was the last time that had happened? _Oh yes,_ Thorin remembered, _when she challenged Dwalin to a spar over a century ago._ He smirked.

Thorin wasn't anywhere near to wanting to emulate Billa's strategy, but he ruminated over the results anyway. _Balin will like her,_ he thought firmly. His eyes followed her as she stood up, patting Kili's head before she picked up the flagon of (very fine) wine on the table.

"Anyone for a refill?" she asked sweetly, and Thorin found his glass in the air before he even thought about reaching for it. He watched, mesmerized, as she ignored the several raised glasses between them, and walked straight to him. His lips tilted up, appreciating the show of respect and deference. Her hips swung with each step, as did her hair. She held his glass in her hand, her fingers closing over his to hold it steady as she poured. Her hands were warm, and they looked so dainty and small over his sword-and-hammer roughened hands. Her head was tilted, and curls fell over her shoulder to brush against his arm. He wanted to touch them. Were they as soft as they looked? He'd hardly ever seen curly hair before, and none so long and healthy-looking as hers.

Suddenly, she pulled away, her curls slipping softly over his wrist as she turned away to fill Dwalin's cup. The spell was broken, and Thorin was relieved. The urge to reach out and stroke her hair, or touch those dainty little fingers had been nearly irresistible. He shook his head, brushing the wistful smile from his face and firmly affixing his customary scowl.

He sipped the wine, finishing it quickly and setting the glass down. He flexed his muscles and focused his awareness before he rose. Dizziness swamped him, making him feel like he was keeling over even though he knew he stood firmly on solid ground. He discretely flexed his thighs, sending blood rushing back to his head, and his vision cleared.

Thorin gave a brief nod in the halfling's direction before retiring to his room. He walked with steady steps in a perfectly straight line. To anyone looking, there would be no sign of dizziness or weakness, and Thorin would look like he was in complete control. Neither wine nor hobbit lasses had the power to affect kings, after all. Kings, especially exiled dwarven ones, were above such things.

It was only later in his room that he realized that she had called him handsome. He tripped over the bed frame, stubbing his toe and landing on the soft mattress. He growled, kneading his sore toe with his fingers until the ache passed. _It's just the food,_ he reminded himself, _or the wine. It was not,_ he reassured himself firmly, _the halfling. Not the halfling at all._


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 20

Billa puttered around the kitchen, the sun just starting to rise as she prepared all kinds of breakfast food for her dwarves. She was determined to make their stay here a kind of paradise that they would long for after they left, and try to hurry back to.

Thorin, being the kind of dwarf over whom sleep held no dominion, was first in her kitchen.

He had been especially broody last night, hardly saying a word but lording over the conversation all the same. His eyes had frequently been on her, watching her carefully as if waiting for her to confess the food was poisoned or something. It had made her heart beat a little faster, but she was fairly used to his glares and moods. She made sure to serve him first, as was proper, and such deferential treatment seemed to placate him, for after finishing his third glass of wine, he rose (on perfectly steady feet! She was impressed) and gave her a quick nod before retiring. He was the only dwarf who seemed able to walk in a straight line. Fili and Kili were especially tipsy, and she and Dis both had to wrangle them away from her breakables and into their beds.

Dis's mien had been significantly warmer since being reassured of Billa's intentions, and Billa intended to keep it that way. Billa walked Dis to her room and they laughed a little over the boys, and Billa made sure to ask for Dis's favorite foods so she could be sure to have them on hand. Dis had blushed a little, just like Kili did when she showed him particular attention.

"My brother and I are particularly fond of blackberries, Miss Baggins. They grew wild around our childhood home, and are a fond memory for us," Dis said, the wine softening her control enough that she actually sounded wistful. Billa's heart swelled painfully. She remembered the wild blackberry bushes that had grown among the crags of the mountain. Bombur had made blackberry pie one night, and Thorin had uncharacteristically gripped his shoulder in thanks as he took the largest piece.

"I'll be sure to make something with blackberries, then," Billa said kindly, and bowed slightly to Dis when they arrived at Dis's room. "Goodnight, Lady Dis," she said.

Dis nodded her head deeply. "Goodnight, Miss Baggins."

Now, Thorin sat at the head of her table and nodded regally when she placed a plate of food in front on him. On it were sausages, eggs, bacon, toast, an assortment of roasted vegetables, and a blackberry tart. She placed a few more tarts on a platter on the table, saving the rest for Dis later in the day.

"Mister Thorin," she said as she sat beside him, making herself comfortable and filling her own plate, "My Uncle Isumbras will be coming today around 2:30 to see the pans you repaired, and he'll be the one to convince if you want to use one of the forges here in the Shire. He does hold a position of some importance, you know," she told him, a little sternly.

"The Shire doesn't have a king, we have a Thain. But the Thain is the closest the Shire is ever going to get to a King, and the current Thain is my Uncle Isumbras. He is very much a no-nonsense fellow and doesn't take kindly to insults or mindless small talk, much like you." Thorin was staring at her as if she'd grown a third eyeball or something. "I know you're not a very talkative or sociable person, but please. Please, Mister Thorin," she said, putting as much pleading into her voice as she could muster, "Please be as friendly as you can, because if you offend him for any reason, he can make it very difficult for us to do business," she said earnestly.

Thorin just stared at her for a few moments.

"Mister Thorin?" she prompted.

"Your Uncle..." he said slowly, "... is the equivalent to King of the Shire."

Billa nodded quickly, "Yes, which is why this meeting is so important, because if he-"

Thorin interrupted. "Your Uncle is the King-"

"Thain," Billa corrected.

"- the King," Thorin continued, "which makes you a part of the royal family of the Shire. Is that correct?"

Billa wobbled her head in a yes-and-no motion. "Sort of. Not really a royal family. Just -"

Thorin interrupted again. "You are in the line of succession, aren't you?" he asked sternly.

Billa wobbled her head again. "Technically," she admitted, "I am. But!" she said loudly, shaking a finger at him when he made to interrupt again, "But! The odds of me ever becoming Thain are incredibly small. I have a dozen cousins who come before me, all of them likely to have at least half a dozen children. No," she said, shaking her head. "I'll certainly never become Thain, and neither will any children I have, should I ever marry."

Unfortunately, it seemed that Thorin wasn't listening. "You're a princess," he said, wonder in his voice as he stared at her with new light glowing in his eyes. Billa started to protest, but Dwalin and Dis entered at this exact moment.

"Dis! Dwalin!" Thorin called, a dash of excitement in his voice. "Miss Baggins is a princess! Her uncle is the King-"

"Thain!" Billa corrected curtly.

"-of the Shire, and he's coming for tea today." Thorin finished. Dis stared, and Dwalin snorted shortly.

"Of course she is," Dwalin said, amused.

Billa glared. "Not a princess!" she insisted. "The Shire doesn't have a king."

Dis steamrolled over her, exclaiming about how exciting this was, and why hadn't she told them? Were they to call her Princess Billa? Exasperated, Billa talked more frankly than she should have.

"You should no more call me Princess Billa than you would call Mister Dwalin a Prince! Yes, I'm related, but I'm far enough away as to be able to lead a normal life!" she said loudly. The dwarves stared, startled.

"How did you..." Dis said cautiously, and Billa realized that she had revealed more than she intended to. Her brain scrambled for an explanation.

"Well, Misters Fili and Kili had to give me lessons on history after they lost an eating contest. They mentioned that Mister Dwalin is related to you, and after some reading, I knew why Mister Thorin's name sounded so familiar. It is an honor to have the King-In-Exile and his family as guests in my home," she said, rising from her seat to bow low to Thorin, and then again, not quite so low, to Lady Dis.

Lady Dis stared for a moment longer, and then gave a short bow in return, as did Dwalin. Thorin gave his most regal nod.

"We'll not call you Princess, then," Dis agreed. "But we shall call you Lady Baggins."

"Just Billa, please," Billa said, a little desperate.

"Lady Billa, then," Dis said decisively. "I shall inform the others," she said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" Billa said, scrambling from her seat and rushing to the kitchen. "Before you go, try one of these?" she said hopefully, holding out the platter with blackberry tarts. Dis took one cautiously, taking a little nibble from the corner. Her brows furrowed, and she took a larger bite. Billa stood, waiting in hopeful agony. Dis's expression bloomed into a grin, like nothing Billa had ever seen on her face.

"Lady Billa," Dis said, beaming happily, "I think we are going to be wonderful friends." She took another tart from the plate and, a tart in each hand, turned to go fetch her boys and inform them of the situation.

Billa grinned, and gestured to the tart on Thorin's plate. "Try it," she said.

Thorin did so, eyeing her with a hint of suspicion. Then the flavor blossomed on his tongue, and his eyes widened. He stared at her, the most flabbergasted expression she had ever seen appearing on his face. Then he swallowed, and there was a gentle smile curving his lips.

"The lads had better be on their best behavior to you, Lady Billa," he said, the hint of a twinkle in his eye. "They are amongst royalty, after all," he said.

 _Was he teasing her?_ Billa thought disbelievingly. She smiled indulgently at him, disarmed by his smile. "I suppose they are," she said, conceding the fight. _If I made him blackberry tarts every day,_ Billa wondered, _would he smile like that all the time?_

She resolved to test that theory. Each day that Thorin stayed with her, she made sure there were blackberry pastries to be had. And each time he bit into one, he smiled that gentle smile, and looked at her.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

I've heard that in several Oriental countries, when someone hands you something, you can tell how important it is by how they hold it and convey how important it is to you by how you hold it. If you take it with two hands, you are treating it carefully. If you take it in one hand, you are treating it rather carelessly.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 21

Billa endured exaggerated bows and good-natured teasing from Fili and Kili throughout the day, but when the hour for afternoon tea drew near, she convinced Dwalin to take the lads, Oin, and the two guards out behind her house to spar. She had to bribe him with the promise of two cranberry pies, but it was a sacrifice worth making. Her uncle would be busy enough with two dwarves, she didn't need to overwhelm him with _eight_ of them.

Dis and Thorin watched, not bothering to hide their amusement, as she bustled around the drawing room and the kitchen, making sure everything was spotlessly clean, making refreshments, and setting out several types of tea. She wasn't sure if he would come alone or not, so she made sure there was plenty of food.

Then she set up what had previously been her best set of pans on a table in the drawing room, as well as her now-oldest and most worn. The difference between the two sets was noticeable, but the difference in quality between these sets and her new dwarf-forged pans would be almost glaringly obvious. She put the new pans on the table as well, draping a cloth over them. Belladonna Took had had a flair for the dramatic, as was fairly common in the Took line and Billa figured a few dramatics might work in their favor. Finally, at a quarter to three, she stopped her fussing. She turned to the mirror in the entry way, brushed through her hair with her fingers, and then went to sit in the drawing room with Dis and Thorin.

"I'd like to tell him who you are," she informed them abruptly. Thorin nodded cautiously. "It should help. Please be nice," she said fervently. Thorin smirked at her. She was so nervous. Her fingers felt like they were shaking, even though when she looked at them they seemed perfectly still.

Finally, the doorbell rang. Billa jumped to her feet, smoothed down her dress and went to open the door. _Please,_ she thought, _Please please please let this go smoothly._

* * *

When Isumbras Took IV arrived at Bag End, he took a moment to stare suspiciously at the two pairs of boots on the front porch. How on earth had it come to this? Billa's first letter had arrived out of the blue after years of reliably Bagginsish behavior. He had gaped at it for a moment, before glancing at his sister's picture on the mantelpiece in his office and bursting into laughter.

"Oh, Belladonna," he had said fondly. "It turns out your little Billa does have a drop or two of Took blood, after all." He had laughed to himself for several minutes before filing the letter away. He'd look after her smial while she had her fun. No harm done after all. When the second letter arrived two weeks after the first, he had been boggled. A tour of the country was one thing, but _dwarves?_ In _Bree?_ And then to actually bring them home with her! Either she had a great deal _more_ Took blood than he had guessed, or she had been bamboozled and was even now being taken advantage of. He had resolved immediately to make sure nothing untoward was occurring at Bag End. Hobbits were slow to wrath, after all, but for the sake of the daughter of his favorite sister, he was prepared to be fierce.

As Billa answered the door, he noticed the pink in her cheeks and the smile on her face. She fussed over him, taking his cloak and directing him to the drawing room while she hung it up.

Two dwarves stood from their seats when he walked in, a rare show of courtesy. They were both tall, with pale skin, blue eyes, and long dark hair and beards. _Obviously brothers,_ he thought. _Where is the sister Billa had mentioned in her letter?_ Then Billa was there, making introductions.

"Dear Uncle Isumbras," she said. Isumbras noted from the endearment that she was quite vested in making sure this conversation went smoothly. "May I introduce the King In Exile of Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield, and his sister, the Lady Dis," she said. One dwarf after the other bowed. _So,_ Isumbras thought dumbly, _Lady Dwarves have beards too. And they're royalty. Oh dear._

 _"_ Mister Thorin, Lady Dis," Billa continued, "May I introduce my Uncle, Isumbras Took the Fourth, and Thain of the Shire. Uncle," she said, perhaps trying to break the tension in the room, "Apparently dwarves consider the Thainship to be as near to Kingship as makes no difference. They tried to convince me to let them call me Princess Billa when I was making breakfast this morning! Anyway, Uncle, I'm so very glad you're here. Thank you for looking out for my smial in my absence, I do appreciate it so. Mister Thorin and his party will be staying with me for a few days, during which time I would like to make sure he has access to a forge. He's done such a wonderful job with your great grand-father's courting pans. They were very nearly falling apart, even worse than these," she said as she handed him an older, battered pan from the nearby table. Several pans were featured there, two sets as well as a third hidden under a blanket.

"And," she said, handing him a pan from the other set, "These used to be my finest pans, a gift from father to mother." The pan she had handed him was very fine indeed, one of the finest that had ever been commissioned in the Shire. _Poor old Bungo did love to shower Belladonna with gifts,_ Isumbras remembered fondly.

"Now, Uncle," she said, excitement and nerves in her voice, "These are the pans that Great Great Grandfather gave to Great Great Grandmother, the ones that Mister Thorin re-forged for me a few days ago in Bree." She whipped away the covering with a flourish of silk, and the light from the window struck them just so. They glowed, and Billa gently lifted one from the table and, holding it with both hands, pressed it into Isumbras's two hands. He gaped at it, turning it this way and that. The workmanship far surpassed anything that had ever been forged in the Shire or made by the hands of men. It was beautiful! It was flawless. The engravings along the edge were exactly as he remembered them, and there on the bottom was Great Grandfather's forging mark, now accompanied with a tiny new mark that must be from this blacksmithing king.

Taking advantage of his stupefaction, Billa continued. "Dearest Uncle Isumbras, I have other things I want Mister Thorin to make for me, but we need access to a forge. Can you arrange for such a thing to happen?" Isumbras blinked a few times, coming back to himself.

"Certainly," he said hoarsely. "I shall arrange it personally, on my way back from here today. Er, Mister Thorin," he said abruptly, turning to face the dwarf in question. "Am I correct in thinking that you are also able to forge weapons?" Isumbras asked. As the Thain, he was responsible for defense of the Shire, and the weapons stores in the Great Smials of Tookland were something of an embarrassment.

Thorin nodded gravely. "I am," he intoned, his voice far deeper than any Isumbras had ever heard.

"It would please me greatly if you were to stay for a few weeks, and forge 3 dozen or more hobbit-sized swords and shields. I am responsible for the defense of the Shire. It has been several years since such weapons were needed, and when we needed them, they broke easily against the swords and teeth of our foes. Many hobbits lost their lives, including some of those very dear to me. It is my responsibility to ensure we have them, the best we can get, if ever we should need them again."

Thorin hesitated. Isumbras pressed harder.

"I am willing to pay in gold, or in food, or any manner of supplies you need, Mister Thorin, and you and your dwarves would forevermore be welcome to do business or take your rest within the borders of the Shire," Isumbras tempted him.

Still Thorin hesitated. Billa interjected quickly.

"Mister Thorin, the next item I was going to commission from you was actually going to be a sword to use for my personal defense," she said.

"The Shire is usually safe," she explained, "but a few years ago, during the Fell Winter of 2911, the Brandywine river froze solid, and wolves and goblins invaded the Shire. We had no proper weapons but the old things stored in the Tookland's Great Smials, and many of them were rusted through. My-" Billa's voice choked, and she took a deep breath before continuing.

"My parents died in that onslaught," she sniffled, groping for her handkerchief and quickly drying her nose, "and I have never forgotten the helplessness that gripped me as I w-watched my mother f-f-fall, d-defending my father's b-body with nothing but a fr-frying pan in her hand!" she said, her voice hitching as she mopped tears from her eyes.

Isumbras put a gentle hand on her shoulder and quickly handed her his own handkerchief, his eyes wet as he remembered the loss of his sister. The dwarves' attention was riveted on Billa, and for several moments the house was silent save for the sound of Billa's quiet sniffles. Finally, she put the handkerchief down, the wave of grief passing as quickly as it had come.

"Forgive me," Billa said, wringing the handkerchiefs in her hands as she gathered her composure.

"You needn't stay until they are all completed," Billa said, clearing her throat quickly and blinking the last of the tears from her eyes. "You are a busy man with a great nation to look after, and I wouldn't dream of insisting you stay until the job is done. Even if you could only forge a few weapons at a time when you pass through on your trading journeys, it would be a great help to Uncle, to me, and to the Shire."

Thorin's attention switched from Billa to Isumbras, whom he eyed carefully. "And the dwarves under my command would be free to set up trade in the Shire, and do business with your people?"

"Yes," Isumbras nodded and, finally, Thorin was convinced.

Isumbras was then struck with a brilliant notion. "I'm sure Billa here would be more than happy to handle any official arrangements between our peoples that need to be made. In fact, my dear," he said to her, "I'm appointing you to be the official liaison between the Shire and the dwarves under Mister Thorin's reign." When she started to protest, he cut her off quickly. "If it's such a trouble my dear, I can certainly arrange for a paid salary," he teased. Her face flushed, but she gave in.

"Very well," Isumbras said, satisfied. "This has been a most illuminating meeting, my dear," he said to her, "and the refreshments have been particularly delicious. I've been very pleased to meet you, Mister Thorin, King in Exile, and you, Lady Dis. I wish you all the luck in the world, and look forward to the fruits of this meeting. Alas, the hour is advancing and it is time to take my leave."

Everyone stood as he did. He exchanged bows with the King-In-Exile and his sister, and then Billa politely walked him outside to the front gate.

He kissed Billa gently on the forehead. "You're a good girl, my dear, and your mother would be very proud of you. I have no doubt that great things will come from the understanding between peoples this day, Billa, and it will be all thanks to you," he told her solemnly. She smiled and hugged him, tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, Uncle Isumbras," she said into his shoulder. "Thank you so much." Then he was crossing the gate and she was waving goodbye.

 _Yes, Belladonna,_ he mused. _There's a good deal more Took blood in her than either of us ever hoped for. If Fortinbras turns out to be a disappointment,_ he decided, _that girl shall be Thain when I am gone._

Resolutely satisfied with all of the decisions he had made that day, Isumbras turned his attention to the music of the birds and the swaying of the grass as he began the long, beautiful walk home.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 22

After over a century in exile, Thorin had forgotten what it felt like to have someone fawning over his work, excited by something he had made. As he watched the the halfling princess showcase the labor of his hands to her uncle the king, Thorin felt a warm swell of pride and appreciation that he hadn't felt since his mother died in Smaug's Desolation. She had been the one he turned to whenever he had completed a new project or advanced in his training. She would take the symbol of his accomplishment in both her hands, a smile on her face, exclaiming over his skill and telling him how lucky she was to have such a talented son. As he watched the grey old hobbit's eyes widen in admiration as he handled the re-forged pans, Thorin felt that same rush of emotion.

Then he learned that Billa had watched her mother perish in front of her, just like he had, and the last of his reluctance was washed away. These were good people, who had suffered from the evil in this world nearly as much as he had, and he had the means to help them, and they had the means to help his people. How could he turn away? They were as near to equals as could be, in this room. Two kings and two princesses, brokering peace to protect their peoples.

As the rest of the day passed, he and Billa closeted themselves in the study, poring over parchment scrolls and maps.

"With all those weapons you'll be forging," Lady Billa said, "We'll need to train hobbits to use them."

Thorin grimaced. "I can't spare many warriors, Lady Billa," he said. "The trade routes are dangerous, and I need peacekeepers and guards in Ered Luin."

As always, Lady Billa found a way to reconcile the problem. "I'm sure you have a few ancient warriors in need of a warm place with plenty of food to retire. Someone who has learned patience over the years, and can manage a class full of beginners without sending them all home in tears?" she suggested.

Thorin thought carefully and yes, there were several dwarrow he could think of that would work in such a position. "I can think of several," he admitted. "How many trainees were you thinking?" he asked.

Billa's eyes sharpened. "At first, only a few. But in time, I want to make it so every able-bodied hobbit in the Shire has spent at least a few months in these classes!" she said firmly, her eyes shining. "With skills-displays at carnivals and parties, some well-played gossip, and perhaps a few marriage proposals, these weapons classes will become highly sought after."

For a moment, Thorin gaped at her. _Gossip and proposals to make weapons-training more popular?_ _Impossible!_ he thought.

With a laugh, Billa explained. "I will successfully persuade several young hobbits who are about to enter courtship to join the weapons training. When their opponents in love lose, I will be heard saying that it was the weapons training, and the strength and skills they learned there, that helped the lovers to win each suit. It is a sly ploy, but one that is sure to work. My mother used it to great affect to encourage young lovers to buy her jewelry. The newly affianced couples always seemed to be wearing something she made, and so hopeful suitors would always purchase something of hers, hoping it was good luck."

Thorin listened, fascinated despite the odd subject matter. _She doesn't need weapons or armies to control this nation,_ he realized. _She uses her words and their own thoughts to mold this kingdom to her will._ Such a concept was completely foreign to the straightforward dwarf, but he resolved to see it in action before passing judgment.

Then they were off talking again about what trades would be best to bring to the Shire.

"The Shire has many fauntlings. Toy carvers or story tellers would be very popular. We have few buildings made of stone, because we lack the skills to work it properly. I would pay well for a stone mason to shore up some of the cottages on my properties, and even to reinforce old smials who have collapsed under floods, mudslides, and other disasters. I think it would be wise to arrange to have a few places of fortification in each city built up in case of future attacks, and for storing grain in case of emergencies. And you, Mister Thorin, what is it that you need most in trade with the Shire?" she asked.

Thorin snorted grimly. Three days ago, he would never have considered admitting the weaknesses of his people to anyone, let alone this halfling. Now, knowing her position and her commitment to make this agreement work, Thorin was coming to believe that he could tell her of all his weaknesses, and she would not use them to strike at him. Instead, her only concern would be to help him fix them. After a lifetime of fearing attack and betrayal, this fledgling trust caused a peculiar lightness in his heart and he found a smile almost constantly on his lips. Even as he spoke of the grave problems facing his people this winter, he smiled because he believed that together, they could find a solution.

"The winter coming will be long and desperately cold," he said. "Despite our long years in exile, we've little money and many of us go without shelter. Even now, we live mostly hand to mouth. Our numbers are few already," he admitted, "but each winter we lose more than we can afford. We need shelter, and food, and warmth."

Billa's eyes were narrowed, leaning back in her chair, eyes on the ceiling and fingers steepled. On anyone else, Thorin would feel a rush of rage that they were ignoring him, especially during such a humble recital. For Billa, however, he already recognized this as her 'thinking about something really important' pose, and he waited for several minutes as her fingers tapped thoughtfully against each other.

"How many?" she spoke abruptly. "How many of your people are especially at risk this winter?"

Thorin did some rough calculations in his head. "We lost thirty-seven dwarrow last winter. I'd expect about forty or so, particularly among the young and the very old."

"I'm not certain about dwarrow customs, Mister Thorin, so if what I suggest is some kind of taboo, please be gentle with your displeasure," she said, prefacing her idea with a disclaimer.

"Among those dwarves who are very old, do they have crafts that they would be willing or able to teach to a young hobbit apprentice?" she asked. "Skills like weaving, and carving, business, accounting, almost any skill you can think of," she said earnestly, abandoning her thoughtful pose and turning to lean towards him. "Apprenticeships in the Shire are usually done without an exchange of gold, and it can go one of two ways. The gaffers could either live with their apprentice's family, or only stay there during the day, whichever they prefer, or the apprentice could come and stay with them. The teacher is paid in food, goods, and sometimes shelter, and the learner or the learner's family does the paying."

Thorin's heart swelled in hope at what he was hearing. This could save so many of the old dwarves that he had thought might take the final journey during this winter.

"For the children..." Billa went back to her pose. "I suppose their families would want to come with them?" she hazarded, and Thorin made an affirmative noise. For being so new to dwarves, she seemed to interpret their grunts with surprising accuracy, he noted.

"How many would come of the young and their families?" she asked.

"I'd say to expect two dozen of the elderly," Thorin said gruffly, "and we've only 18 dwarrow under the age of twenty," he said. "With their parents, I'd think about forty total for the younglings."

"Eighteen," Billa mused. Suddenly she bolted upright. "I've got it!" she crowed in excitement. She swooped in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thorin!" she cried, "I've got it!"

Stunned from her lips brushing against his beard and his name on her lips so informally, Thorin was a little slow to follow. "You have got what?" he asked, stymied.

Billa was scrabbling for parchment, writing things down too quickly, and the quill blotted and scratched against the paper, but Billa didn't seem to mind. "I was sure that they would have a trade of some kind that they could ply for profit in the Shire," she said quickly. "The only problem was, where were they to stay? I only have thirteen bedrooms, after all, and I couldn't guarantee that others would want to take them in. Then I realized! The old smials!" Thorin stared at her for a moment, not understanding yet.

"I will buy some of the old, fallen-in smials in the Shire," she explained eagerly, chest heaving as she panted out the words. "Then! I will use my good Baggins gold to pay for dwarven craftsmen to rebuild the broken parts with stone. Then! When they are livable, I will stock them with food and rent them out to you, Thorin Oakenshield, for the use of your people. You, or they, or however you want to handle it, will pay something that we can settle when we figure out what exactly skills the occupants have to hand and what their income will probably be," she said, flapping a hand to wave away concerns over this part. "The children and their families, and the elderly if they don't want to live with their apprentices, will rent these smials. The mothers and fathers will have a home to work from while they ply their trades. A place that is warm and dry and safe. When we work out the rent, I'll assume you'll want to own the smials, eventually?" she clarified, finally looking up at him from the parchment she had been laboring over.

"Er, yes," Thorin said, recovering quickly. "That would be preferable, though I'd have to decline if the rent payments were too high," he reminded her. There was no suspicion in his voice, not anymore. Just a reminder that his people were poor and very far away from home.

"Mmmm," Billa agreed. "If you were to supply the stoneworkers at a discounted rate, I could apply that discounted rate to the rent, or I could pay you exorbitantly and charge a higher rent..." She mused. Before he could take offense, she explained. "All I want to do is eventually make up the money that I spend on the Smials. I have other tenants, and I've no desire to make an unfair profit on the backs of your people, Mister Thorin," she explained. "Nor do I wish to offer you needless charity. Your pride could not take it, and I doubt you need charity, anyway. You are a good king, Thorin Oakenshield, and your people are lucky to have you," she said softly, her eyes shining at him.

Thorin swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Lady Billa. Please," he paused, biting his lip. _We are equals,_ he reminded himself, and felt his doubts melt away. "You have my permission to call me Thorin," he said. He was rewarded by a blinding smile.

"Please, Thorin," she said happily, "Just call me Billa."

"Billa," he nodded, pleased.

After a few more hours hammering out details and making plans, Thorin and Billa left the study, stomachs rumbling, and availed themselves of the pantry. Thorin groaned when he saw that his traveling companions had taken the last of the fine hobbit-wine he had enjoyed the night before.

"It's a pity," he confided to Billa, "That wine was absolutely delicious. Did you make it yourself?" he asked. Despite the hours of discussion, he felt more sociable and open than he had felt in years.

"Not I," she admitted, "My father made it. His apprentice, Halfast Gamgee, keeps me in supply now in exchange for the grapes from my vineyards," she explained. She chewed on her lip for a moment, eyeing him speculatively. Unconsciously, he stood a little taller, wondering what she was thinking.

"If I were to show you something..." she said slowly, "Could you keep it a secret from everyone in your party?" He snorted, almost affronted.

"Of course I could!" he said proudly.

She jabbed a finger at him. "I am holding you to that Thorin Oakenshield! And if I find more of my wine out and about, I'll know just whose hide to take it out of!" she said sharply. Then, when his face turned red with anger and confusion and he started to sputter at her, she shushed him. Him! Dismayed into temporary silence, he watched as she carefully pulled a hidden lever, and then the back wall of the pantry opened up like a door.

"Come on!" she whispered, "Before anyone sees!" He followed her in his most stealthy tread, his anger forgotten. The walls of this room were covered in shelves, all of them stocked with more food and there, against one wall, was a long row of wine barrels. He grinned at her, and she grinned back. She filled a flagon from one of the barrels, and both of them snuck back out of the pantry and into the kitchen, laughing as they went.

They feasted in the kitchen on wine and chicken pies, and as the sun started to sink, Billa had a crazy idea. "Do you want to go see the smials you'll be buying from me?" she asked.

Thorin chewed and swallowed. "That would be smart," he admitted. "I can assess the damage, and send word on what supplies we'll need, and let you know just what it will take to repair them. But not tonight," he said sharply, as she made to rise. She blushed and sank back down.

"I suppose it would be wiser to view them in the sunlight," she admitted easily. He took another swallow of wine.

"I think," he said, cocking his head thoughtfully, "That I should send Dis and the lads back to the mountain with official decrees from the agreements we've made here. Winter will be along in a couple months, and those smials will need to be livable. We'll need to start as soon as possible. I'll need to see the smials tomorrow morning, and then send off the others in the afternoon. Dis will govern in my absence, the stone workers will come post haste, and the elderly and young ones will have a month and a half to make their arrangements to come to us."

"Hmmm," Billa agreed. "Will Dwalin be staying or will it be Boris and Noris?" she asked. Thorin smirked at her.

"Dwalin will stay, though you'll be regretting that as soon as he starts your lessons," he teased her. She groaned.

"Ugh! Don't remind me!" They laughed for a few minutes before their minds drifted back to business.

"The road between Ered Luin and the Shire is going to become very popular," Billa mused. "It would be really handy if we could tell when there were dwarves coming this way, so I could prepare my stores and the bedrooms... "she said.

Thorin had a clever idea, and grabbed her hand to pull her back to the study, explaining as he went. "Have you heard of the beacons of Gondor and Rohan? The distance between them stretched over a mountain range, but they still found a way to communicate. The fires in one beacon are lit, and the others can see them from far away, and know to pass the message on."

He pointed at one of the maps. "The road to Ered Luin goes through Needle Point, a small range of hills on the western edge of the Shire. It's about two days walk from here, and you can see the mountain pass from your back porch. When my party leaves tomorrow, we should send a good map with them, and hopefully they can scout out a good place to establish safe camping grounds for the others to pass through on the way back here. If they can leave a trail and mark the way for others, it'll be much quicker travelling for all the dwarrow that will follow," Thorin said. "It'll be a tenday or a fortnight journey one way, as far as I can tell. As soon as the dwarrow reach Needle Point, they camp for the night and light a campfire that can be seen from across the Shire. We'll see it here if we check the back porch every night, and we'll know we have two more days to finish things before they arrive," Thorin explained, proud of himself. Billa was gazing at him with open admiration.

"That's a really clever idea, Thorin," she said admiringly, and the praise made him swell with pride and affection. Then her face cracked into a wide yawn, and Thorin was surprised to realize that the sun had set several hours ago. They quickly put the rest of their food and drink away, Billa hiding the wine in the kitchen and sending him a cheeky wink before they said goodnight in the hallway.

A great deal had been accomplished today, he reflected, and the next few days would bring even more progress. As Thorin sank down into his soft mattress, he was surprised to find that he had a smile on his face.

 _How odd,_ he thought pleasantly, _My cheeks are aching. I don't think I've ever smiled so much in my whole life._ That thought made him smile, too, and the smile stayed on his face long after he fell asleep.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 23

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Thorin and Billa rode down to the site of the caved-in smials, Dwalin trailing ever-vigilant behind them. The sun had risen a few hours before, for both Thorin and Billa had slept in much later than they usually did. It was a beautiful ride through beautiful country, the far-rolling hills sprinkled with flowers and gardens. Billa spent most of the time explaining landmarks and history to him, chattering pleasantly. He didn't mind letting her fill the silence.

When they came to the site where a mudslide had crushed the roofs of three adjacent smials, they dismounted and tied up the ponies. Billa explained what she knew of the disaster, and then fell silent while the craftsmen talked amongst themselves, gesturing around and walking among the damage. Billa had come prepared, and sat on a rock with a slate covered by parchment in her hand, gripping a quill. Occasionally Thorin would shout out words and numbers and names at her, and though it seemed like a lot of gibberish to her, she wrote it down anyway. After a few hours of poking around, the dwarves were satisfied and they rode back to Bag End.

Then, Thorin availed himself of her notes and her study, while she focused on packing some truly delicious rations for the road. Fili and Kili stayed with her in the kitchen, juggling packs and singing songs and telling jokes. When Billa laughingly sent them off to brush the ponies and ready them for travel, Dis stepped into the kitchen, a pensive expression on her face.

"Lady Billa, good morning," she greeted politely.

"Good morning, Lady Dis!" Billa said cheerfully. "How can I be of service to you?"

"Well," Dis said slowly, "I've been wondering about a few things, and I'd like to ask you something, but I don't mean to cause offense," she said. Her entire posture radiated some strange emotion, and it took Billa a few moments to realize that the dwarrowdam was concerned about hurting her feelings. This caused Billa a moment of trepidation, but she gathered her courage. For all that Dis was named after a gate in Hell, Billa didn't think the discussion could be _that_ bad. She'd faced a dragon after all. Billa took Dis's hands, led her to the drawing room, and took a seat. Dis followed reluctantly.

"Speak freely, Lady Dis," Billa said firmly. "I shall know the words come from your heart and are not meant to wound mine." Dis sighed, sounding relieved.

"Lady Billa, you have treated us like family. I am well aware of the agreements you have made with my brother, and I am not ignorant to the fact that we are the most desperate party. Yet you have not made us beg, nor taken advantage of us. You have made arrangements that are completely agreeable with everyone involved, and gone out of your way to do so. At first I thought you did it to win one of my sons, but I know better now. I must ask you, Lady Billa, what do you hope to gain from all of this?" Dis said.

Billa stared for a moment, and then took a deep breath and looked down into her hands. "I-," she started, and stopped again. "Hobbits are made to have large families, you know," she said, sounding a little small. "Bad things happen, and you turn to family for support, comfort, and renewal when bad things do." She looked up at Dis. "I have no family, not anymore. I haven't had family since the wolves killed them in 2311. I had no siblings, no parents, and soon, no friends either. I became a complete shut in. The only interaction I had were from people coming to convince me to marry their sons or pass on my inheritance. Hobbits _crave_ family, and I've been starving for a long time.

Then," she said, starting to smile, "I had finally had enough, and I went on an adventure hoping to find something bigger than my lonely heart. And then I met Kili, just a lad faced with impossible odds, but he refused to bow down, and I knew I needed to be more like that. I stuck around your Fili and Kili, with their good hearts and their silly jokes, and it felt like they were the brothers I had always wanted, and then one by one I met each of you, and through their eyes, I grew to know and love you.

"Hobbits who lose their family can, according to Shire law and tradition, choose a new family," Billa informed Dis, looking up at her fervently. "Whether you accept it or not, I have come to view your family as my own. I've adopted you into my heart, and because you are in my heart, I will do all I can to ensure your welfare and your happiness." Billa finally fell silent, looking down at her hands, afraid to look up and see scorn or disgust on Dis's face. _You miserable descendent of rats_ echoed through her mind in an angry voice so very like Dis's.

There was a long silence. Dis was fiddling around with her hands and hair, but Billa couldn't bring herself to look. Then Dis was sitting next to her, so much larger and stronger than she was, and Billa felt a moment of fear. Then, Dis's hands were in her hair, gentle, firm, and not threatening at all. No threats, no insults, just her fingers carding through Billa's curls. Billa sighed, relaxing into the moment. Dis combed through her hair for several long moments, and Billa felt her worries fade away.

"Is this what it feels like to have a sister?" she asked, a little drowsily, as Dis continued playing with her hair. Dis chuckled.

"I wouldn't know for sure," she replied, "But if it is, I don't mind at all." Then, Dis was finished, pulling away and bringing Billa's hands up to touch her hair.

"Is that..." Billa asked, "A braid?" There, among her curls, was a tightly woven braid and at the bottom was a familiar silver bead, like Thorin and Fili and Kili and Dis all had braided into their hair.

Dis smiled her. "This bead marks you as belonging to the line of Durin. I accept your claim of sisterhood for myself."

Billa's eyes welled with tears. _It was real! They really want me!_ she thought, almost in disbelief. She flung her arms around Dis and spent several minutes crying into her shoulder while Dis patted her back. When she pulled back, Dis was smiling, and then Fili and Kili were there, pulling her out of Dis's arms and whirling her around in theirs.

"We accept!" Kili cried as he spun her around, and then passed her back to Fili.

"Welcome, sister," Fili agreed, smiling at her. Billa gave them both hugs and pecked their cheeks.

"You are wonderful lads," she told them, grinning at them happily, "And you will grow into admirable dwarves who will change the world for the better. I'm sure of it," she proclaimed, and they blushed at her.

Then Thorin was walking into the door, and gathered the situation with a quick glance at her hair. He smiled, his eyes flitting from person to person before finally resting on her.

"I will not claim you as my sister," he said, his voice grave but the smile still on his lips. "But I will acknowledge you as the sister of my sister, and the sister of her sons," he said kindly. "Welcome to the line of Durin, Billa Baggins of the Shire."

Billa couldn't help herself. She flung herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tight around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. He surprised her by gripping her tight, wrapping his arms around her back and lifting her into the air. She laughed out loud as he whirled them around in circles, and he laughed with her.

As the room spun around, she caught glimpses of Fili and Kili's incredulous expressions, and Dis's knowing little smile. Then Thorin put her down, and she clung to him for a moment until the room stopped spinning around her. Then she looked up into his eyes, and grinned at him.

"Welcome to the House of Baggins, Thorin, Fili, Kili and Dis of the line of Durin," she said, turning to curtsy at each one in turn.

Then, with flushed cheeks and shining eyes, she went back to finish packing the rations in the kitchen. And if she frequently burst into laughter or grabbed a dwarf to hug happily, no one minded at all.

* * *

After a hearty lunch, Thorin, Dwalin and Billa waved goodbye to the others. Well, Billa waved while Thorin and Dwalin stood stoically and watched the others shrink in the distance.

Then Dwalin was leering at her, and Billa was backing away cautiously and Thorin was laughing at them both.

"Mister Dwalin," Billa said cajolingly, "I've changed my mind about the fighting lessons. I've decided what I really need is lessons in baking, or in taste-testing, doesn't that sound more fun?" Dwalin snorted at her weak attempts to sway him.

"Go on, lass," he said gruffly, but not unkindly. "Go fetch your walking stick, the one you saved one of my idiot students with," he said.

Billa stood for a moment. "I thought you were gonna teach me how to use a sword...?" she asked cautiously. Dwalin took a threatening step forward.

"The walking stick! Right. I'll be right back!" she called as she danced away from him on quick feet. Then she quickly stopped as a thought came to her.

"Mister Dwalin, I need to make weapons training look very popular and desirable in order to get more hobbits to join," she explained quickly. "Hobbits really value dancing. If I can make it look like weapons training has made me a better dancer, it will go a long way in getting others to join," she said.

Dwalin stared at her. "Go fetch your stick, lass," he said sharply. "Thorin and I'll think on it while you run there and back."

She recognized the command in that voice and obeyed.

When she came back, panting, Thorin and Dwalin had her dance several popular hobbit jigs to see what the movements and pacing were like. It was odd, doing such cheerful dances while two fearsome warriors glared dourly at her, but she prevailed. They muttered to each other back and forth, and had her do the dances over and over. When her cheeks were red and she was gasping for air, Dwalin finally called for a rest.

"Lass, your endurance is terrible," he told her frankly. Billa sagged, but knew it was true. Dwalin then instructed her on an exercise regimen that she was to practice religiously.

Before she started making first and second breakfast, she had to dance 7 dances in a row, with Thorin or Dwalin keeping pace so she didn't slow. Before elevensies and luncheon, she was to run around her entire smial, twice. Before dinner, she had to do pushups until her arms gave out. Before supper, Dwalin used her for a chew toy and then spat her back out.

At the end of the first day, Dwalin left her crumpled on the ground behind her house, Thorin sitting nearby and writing as he watched her complete humiliation. After Dwalin left, Billa dragged herself over to Thorin on aching limbs and collapsed next to him. He ignored her, focusing on his writing, which only made her feel more pitiful, so she pressed her head against his leg. He kept writing, paying her no heed. She crawled a little closer. He still ignored her. Finally, she had her head resting entirely on his leg, just above the knee, her eyes on his face. With a sardonic huff, he finished writing and looked at her. She made the saddest, most pitiful expression she could, and he laughed, patting her head.

"Are all the hobbits going to be as weak and slow as you?" he asked. She mewed in protest, but then he started petting her head again, and she subsided under his hand.

"Some will be worse," she admitted, enjoying his attention, "And some will be better. Not all of us can be blacksmiths who wield hammers like they weigh as much a fork," she said, sassing him tiredly. He smirked at her.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, teasing her. A light blush came to her cheeks, but she decided to be honest. It was just Thorin, after all.

"Yeah," she admitted, "It's really impressive." Then her voice turned sad, and her lips made a pout. "It's a pity you're not strong enough to carry me to the house," she said, hoping he would take the bait and prove his strength.

He didn't. He laughed at her instead. "I see what you're doing, now," he said, shaking a finger at her before he went back to stroking her hair. "You think you can goad me into things by questioning my ability to do them. Your tricks don't work on me."

She scoffed tiredly. "They did. All I had to do to get you to listen to me in the forge was suggest my job was beyond your skill. You were burning to prove me wrong, then," she pointed out, grinning at the memory.

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm wising up to your strategy, princess," he grumbled at her. She laughed, and he reluctantly joined her. Then he hauled himself to his feet, and when she looked up at him pitiably, he raised a mocking eyebrow, but helped her up too.

She stumbled back to the house, clutching his arm and feeling sorry for herself while he just looked at her and smirked. She could tell he was amusing himself at her expense, but couldn't really bring herself to care. He walked her to her room, telling her to take a cold bath or the muscles would hurt even worse tomorrow. She groaned in dismay and he laughed at her.

"Go take your bath, princess," he said with an unrepentant grin on his face. "I'll save some supper for you." She stumbled away from the door and into his personal space, resting her head on his chest.

"I really, really want to make snarky comments at you," she informed one of the buttons on his shirt, "but I'm too tired to think of any." He snorted and pushed her towards the door. She went.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Some people have mentioned that this is a fairly cheerful and happy fic. I think there's enough sadness and cruelty in the real world without bringing an excessive amount of angst and suffering into our stories just for the sake of it. We treasure fairy tales, not because they teach us that dragons exist, but because they teach us that _dragons can be beaten._ That said, of course there is suffering in this fic. Duh. We've talked about Billa's parents being killed in front of her eyes, starving and sick people dying in winter, and there is the past and future trauma of Smaug and the quest to address. The first chapter begins with Billa being eaten and then dying of a heart attack, for goodness sake. So, yes, bad things happen. The difference is the characters are going to do something about it, instead of me just subjecting them to endless misery and angst while they run around in circles crying, "Woe is me." There was enough tearful, miserable happenings in the first Quest. This is a fix it fic, ergo, _things will be fixed._

Then, some people have a problem with Billa's plans for smoothing the way in the Shire. Hullo, it's the Shire. Billa is just being creative at finding ways to tie in new dwarvish behaviors with things that hobbits actually like. Hobbits are usually really wary with outsiders, so Billa is pulling out all the stops and is willing to make a spectacle of herself and the dwarves to ensure that Thorin's people will survive the winter. Simple folk with simple pleasures, pleasures like dancing and gossiping and fancying themselves in love with heroes from hobbitish romance novels. Okay? Deal with it.

One of my favorite readers helpfully gave me realistic time frames for forging. Since those time frames don't work for my story, I hereby proclaim that dwarves have forgotten more about forging than any modern-day Mannish expert will ever know, and can forge harder, better, faster, and stronger. Also, Thorin has the super-power of his biceps. We poor humans will never compete.

Finally, last Monday, when I published the first two chapters for this fic, they got 89 views and had 37 readers. Today alone, this story got 2,580 views and 292 visitors! Last Monday, there were sixteen hundred words total and today, counting this chapter, there are _thirty-nine thousand five hundred and fifty words!_ Whoo-hoo! Thank you everyone for reading!

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 24

Billa was hiding. Dwalin had told her that if he found her, he would make her do thirty pushups, and her arms just couldn't take any more. So, she was hiding while he hunted for her. Thorin, curse him, had taken her walking stick and was down at the forge, probably using it for kindling. It had been several days since the other dwarves had moved on, and her training had exhausted her. Everything hurt. _Everything._

And so, Billa hid in her front garden while Dwalin hunted her. Then, she heard the worst noise possible. Giggles and faint voices, coming ever closer. _Oh no!_ she thought, _someone is coming to visit!_

"Dwalin!" she hissed. "Dwalin!" He popped out of hiding, much closer to finding her than she had hoped. Still, this was important. "Dwalin, quick! Our disguise!"

"Well, go on lass," he hissed back at her.

They quickly made themselves ready. Billa threw on a skirt she'd been carrying for just such a circumstance, while Dwalin hid his axes behind a bush and put on a hat to hide his fearsome tattoos. It had taken some convincing (and bribery) but the effect was worth it. Dwalin still looked like he _could_ eat you for breakfast, but he no longer looked like he _wanted_ to.

Dwalin took a demanding pose, and Billa started to dance just as a group of giggling girls turned the corner and came into view. A few gasps and whispers were heard. _Who was that fierce stranger? What on earth was Billa Baggins doing with such a person? And what was she- she... is she dancing?_

Then the girls were silent, watching in awe as Billa's hard work and Dwalin's careful planning paid off. She was dancing, yes, but it was the most graceful and quick-footed dancing the girls had ever seen.

At hobbit parties, the music in each song started off slowly, and then slowly sped up. The people who could dance the longest and the fastest were the most admired, and here was Billa Baggins, previously known to be a shut in and shunner of parties, dancing faster than any of them had ever seen!

The fierce looking creature with her was clapping his hands and keeping the rhythm, eyeing her critically. "Wait!" he bellowed, and the girls gasped. Billa Baggins froze exactly as she was, and the girls gasped again, this time from wonder instead of fright. Dwalin paced around her, readjusting her feet and straightening her posture before returning to his watching place. He clapped his hands to set a rhythm, and then called, "Again!"

Billa started dancing just as before. The girls watched, stunned, as her feet seemed to blur. _How remarkable! However does she do it? Do you think he's a teacher? She must have hired him!_

After several moments of letting the girls watch their fill, Dwalin turned his stern look on them. To his complete surprise, instead of paling and backing away, a few of them actually blushed and waved shyly at him. Billa was huffing and puffing by now, but still going as fast as she could. Finally, Dwalin called a halt.

"Miss Billa, you're doing much better, but your endurance still isn't quite up to standard yet," he said. Billa hung her head as if ashamed. The girls gaped. _But she kept that back-breaking pace for so long! I wonder what he considers up to standard? Mmmm, I think_ he's _up to standard. Shh!_

"Here, lass," Dwalin said, willing to show off. They had planned for this too. "Let me show you once more how it's done." And then Dwalin burst into motion as Billa sank gratefully into a nearby chair, sipping a glass of water. He started slow, following the dance steps perfectly. But he accelerated so quickly, the girls' mouths were soon hanging open. After a few minutes of demonstration, Dwalin paused.

"And you must be able to not only reach that pace, but maintain it. It will take much more practice before you are ready. Run around the smial twice, and then we will continue," Dwalin said, and Billa was off like a shot.

Their ploy had worked perfectly. Dwalin would be introduced in gossip as Miss Baggins's new, incredible dance teacher, and people would start to come and watch their lessons. The watchers would be introduced to a variety of exercises, all claiming to improve dancing in one way or another. Even the hide-and-seek game could plausibly improve her dancing by teaching her to step lightly! Soon, their would be a clamor for dance teachers in the Shire, just in time for the first arrivals of dwarves from Ered Luin. After the dancing teachers were widely accepted, Billa would stage something where the dwarves rescued them from bandits or something, and were revealed to be not only dance teachers, but also great warriors. One thing would lead to another, and eventually, hobbits would be practicing with weapons.

It didn't hurt when Thorin brought back her walking stick, adorned with metal endcaps with threads of steel winding around the stick, protecting it. The center had leather grips as well. It was beautiful, and she loved it. She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek before she dashed away, waving it at Dwalin and exclaiming over how beautiful it was.

It was now more recognizable as a weapon than as a simple walking stick, and she started to carry it with her everywhere. At first she got strange looks and whispers behind her back, but when she mentioned that it was the most practical gift she'd ever received (the most important kind of gift, to hobbits), people slowly began to admire it. It was slow, but it was progress. First, her walking stick weapon would be accepted. Eventually, she hoped that Dwalin would be able to wear his axes, or Bifur could walk around with an ax in his head and no one would blink an eye.

* * *

Billa sipped tea, smiling insipidly at her guests. Myrtle Bracegirdle and her miserable daughter, Lobelia, future bride of the Sackville-Bagginses, were here, in her smial.

As soon as she had seen the invaders coming up the path, she had ushered the dwarves out of sight and told them to hush. They had protested, until she threatened to stop baking with cranberries and blackberries for the foreseeable future.

"So, Miss Billa," Myrtle said, ignoring the way her daughter swung her legs against the _antique_ chair and banged her _best silver spoons_ against the table. Even as a child, Lobelia Bracegirdle Sackville-Baggins was an absolute plague. "I've heard you've been consorting with _dwarves,"_ she said, saying the name like it was some sort of swamp monster. Billa decided that Myrtle deserved one of the far-less-accurate explanations of how Dwalin had come to be in her home. She summoned her appreciation for all things truly ridiculous, and began to act.

"Oh, it was so romantic!" she cried, immediately putting on her best performance. "I had decided to go on a walking tour when I was set upon by brigands and rascals! They were Big Folk, cruel and callous, and when I cried out for mercy they only laughed at my tears," Billa whimpered. Myrtle's eyes were huge, and she was lapping the story up.

"And then," Billa gasped, eyes wide and staring into the distance, "There he was, my fearsome dwarf. All alone, with no one to guard his back. He drew his weapon and charged, driving the foul brigands off in a ferocious display of skill that made my heart sing. Then, turning to me, he knelt at my feet, untying my bonds with gentle hands, wiping away my tears. He took off his cloak and wrapped it around me to protect me from the chill night air. He introduced himself as Dwalin, Defender of the Innocent and Protector of the Weak. He had taken an oath, long ago in his youth, to wander the lands and protect those who could not protect themselves. Then he bowed low, over my hand, and kissed it," Billa said, wistfulness and longing in her tone.

Myrtle's mouth was wide open as she hung on Billa's every word. Even little Lobelia, curse her name, had stopped trying to dent her spoons in favor of listening.

"He escorted me safely home, and I begged him to stay for a few days to take his rest. He's been so long and so far from home, adrift in his personal Wandering Days," Billa said, surreptitiously eyeing the lone tear slipping down Myrtle's cheek. "He's been here ever since, watching over me, and preparing me for the day when he leaves again," Billa said soulfully, her eyes wide and full of sorrow. "Even if he cares for me, I know he won't stay forever, and his heart is bound to keep his oath, but I can't help longing, and hoping that someday... someday... he might return to me, and we can be together... forever," Billa finished, dabbing at her perfectly dry eyes with a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry!" Billa sniffled, hiding her eyes behind her handkerchief. "It is too painful to speak of any more." Myrtle looked horrified and delighted, and quickly excused herself, almost running down the door to share the story. Billa peeked an eye out from behind her handkerchief to make sure they were gone, and then burst out into hearty, belly-deep laughter.

Thorin and Dwalin cautiously edged out of their hiding places, eyeing her warily. She took a look at their faces, and only laughed harder.

* * *

Thorin and Dwalin overheard more such tales during their stay, each one just as outrageous as the last.

Dwalin had found her when she'd been lost, cold, and frightened in the Old Forest and had escorted her safely home.

Dwalin had saved her from a ravenous pack of hobbit-eating wolves as she toured the edges of the Shire.

Dwalin had saved her from drowning after a herd of stampeding ponies had knocked her into the Brandywine River.

Thorin had grown increasingly jealous until he'd finally asked her, trying his hardest to be polite, why it was _Dwalin_ featuring in all of these stories instead of (not him, of course) Kili, for instance.

Billa had gone into fits of laughter, and when he pried an answer out of her, he felt like laughing himself.

Apparently, each story she had told was very similar to some of the most popular romance stories in the Shire, and Dwalin was starring in the place of the hero. Tall, muscular and gruff, he was very unhobbitish, but he was also very heroic, and Billa was doing her best to romanticize him. Soon, all the ladies would be sighing over the stories, and by extension, over Dwalin. Every time they saw his glare, they'd imagine he was scouring the horizon for danger, intent on keeping them safe. His scary scowl would become a look of intense devotion, or a painful remembrance of tortured memories. He was the scariest of the dwarves, and if she could get the hobbits to admire him, the rest of the dwarves would be easy in comparison. When the other dwarves arrived, they'd be introduced as _Friends of Dwalin_ or _Dwalin's Kin_ , and be made welcome and fawned over too. The hobbit lads would sit up and take note, and when the lasses started joining the weapons classes to coo over the dwarves, the lads would have to join too, just to keep an eye on the girls they fancied. It might not affect every hobbit in the Shire, but it would affect enough to make a difference.

Billa gave the rumors several days to spread, and the crowds coming to watch her lessons grew larger and larger. Some even started trying to mimic her, or do the exercises Dwalin gave her. After a few days, she brought Dwalin and Thorin down to the market with her. She introduced Thorin as "Dear Mister Dwalin's cousin, Mister Thorin, the finest blacksmith I've ever seen," and things went quite smoothly after that.

Dwalin gained a following of pink-cheeked hobbit lasses and ladies, each glancing at him speculatively and making excuses to speak with him or brush up against him. Dwalin's ears started turning pink from all the attention, which only encouraged them.

Billa enjoyed the chaos with a shark-like grin, considering it revenge for all the sore muscles she'd endured at his hands. Thorin looked on with amusement, staying close to Billa and carrying her purchases. She proved to be an adequate shield, placing a hand on his arm or bringing his attention to her every time a female tried to pester him. He passed through the crowds unmolested while Dwalin was swarmed with affection and attention.

After a few hours in the market, Billa finally steered them back up to Bag End, and Thorin couldn't contain his smirk at Dwalin's appearance. He was entirely in disarray, his hair ruffled, his furs pulled this way and that. Hand-embroidered, monogrammed handkerchiefs had been pressed into his collar and his pockets, making it look like he was wearing a great, white ruffly shirt beneath his furs.

"What's this about, then?" Dwalin asked, scowling, as he plucked handkerchief after handkerchief from his clothing. He made to drop them on the ground, but Billa quickly stopped him.

"Oh no, Mister Dwalin, you'll not want to drop these where hobbits can see you!" She explained, pressing them into his hands. "These handkerchiefs are from lasses who hope that you will call on them and invite them to take a walk with you. It's one of the first steps to courtship, you know. Weren't you listening when I explained all this to Fili and Kili?" she asked.

Dwalin's ears turned a bright, tomato red, and two red spots appeared, high in his cheeks.

"You mean all of these...?" he trailed off, totally discombobulated.

Billa nodded emphatically. "That's right, Mister Dwalin, you are now a very popular and very desirable dwarf, and each of these lasses is hoping you'll be her suitor."

Thorin laughed at Dwalin's utterly flabbergasted expression. Throughout the rest of the day, Dwalin's ears would suddenly turn pink, and he would eye his collection of handkerchiefs with trepidation before a teeny smile would peek out from behind his beard.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 25

Weeks had passed since Billa had become the Official Dwarves of Erebor Liaison of the Shire, and she had accomplished a great deal.

The three abandoned smials were now her property, and she had hired crews of hard-working hobbits to clear out the mud and clean up as much as they could. She sent Dwalin and Thorin on a field trip to Michael Delving to see the quarry there, and when the stone there was deemed suitable, she made arrangements for its delivery. Everything would be ready for when the stonemasons arrived. Some of the rooms in the smials were still livable, and she would be making tents available to all of the workers, wherever they chose to sleep. However, there was no bedding or furniture or cookware to be had in any of the smials, and Billa had a plan to change that.

She had been flaunting Dwalin as much as possible, and they were often seen down in the market or playing with fauntlings or having dancing lessons on the hillside. She had taken to arranging little _accidents_ , where a herd of pigs would be set on a stampede near the younglings, or one girl in a giggling gaggle of hobbit lasses would unfortunately trip and sprain her ankle, etc. Dwalin was always on hand to save the day, and was becoming widely known as something of a hero. At first, he had fumed at her, but when she had pointedly eyed his growing collection of handkerchiefs, he had reluctantly allowed her shenanigans to continue.

Finally, when she started getting callers at Bag End who specifically asked to see Dwalin, and invited him to dinner and other exploits, she deemed the time was right.

While Thorin was in the forge and Dwalin was off on a hunting trip with some of the younger lads (who had started to look up to him with something approaching hero worship after he had offered to teach a few of them the secret to his popularity with the ladies), Billa arranged for a party of hobbitwives at Bag End. The invitees ranged from wealthy to poor. They all had two things in common, though. First was that, despite the disparity of wealth between them, each hobbit there was respectable and very well thought of. The second was that they all shared a fervent admiration for the dwarf named Dwalin.

After a half hour of pleasant mingling and delicious food, Billa trotted out the big guns.

"My dear, dear friends," she began, and the room slowly quieted as all eyes turned to focus on her. She was wearing her best dress, re-made with a dash of dwarven influence and her trusty walking stick was at her side. "I have called you here because Mister Dwalin is in trouble, and he needs your help." Gasps and disbelieving noises were made throughout the room. _Mister Dwalin in trouble? Oh no! Whatever can we do? Oh, poor Mister Dwalin!_

"Mister Dwalin has decided that he likes the Shire so much, he wants to stay here, and-" she motioned with her hands, acknowledging the sudden rush of cheers and giggles throughout the room, "-And, he has family and friends that he would like to bring to the Shire as well."

Here, she had to fend off several questions. _He doesn't have a wife, does he? Does he have brothers? Or cousins! Will they all be as strong as Mister Dwalin? Or as tall! Oooh!_

"Ladies, ladies, please!" Billa called, and they slowly came back to order. "Mister Dwalin is unmarried with a white-haired older brother named Balin, but most importantly, he has a very large extended family, but most of them live in considerable danger," she said, and a hush fell throughout the room.

"He has recognized the hospitality of the Shire, and is sending word that the elderly and young families will be safe in the Shire, and to come as soon as they can. I've arranged with Mister Dwalin for the purchase of the three abandoned smials that were devastated by the mudslide some years back. Mister Dwalin is sending a crew of strong, clever craftsmen to rebuild them, and as you know we've had our own husbands and sons out there clearing away the mud. That is where Mister Dwalin's extended family will stay. They will be arriving in a few weeks, but alas! There will be no beds, or chairs, or tables, or even a table cloth in a single room in those smials." Gasps of dismay echoed through the room.

"Is that the kind of welcome we want to send to the friends and family of Mister Dwalin?" Billa asked, and a resounding chorus of _No. Of course not! Oh goodness me._ echoed through the room.  
"My dear friends," Billa said again, "I called you here because you are important, clever, and utterly respectable ladies, and if there is any body in the land who can arrange a wonderful welcome for Mister Dwalin's family, I believe it is this body here before me!" she said, and a cheer went up.

Soon, bake sales and knitting competitions and all manner of things were being planned, with profits and products to go to the previously homeless and hungry dwarves of Erebor. The spare rooms at Bag End will stuffed to bursting with blankets, furniture, cutlery and all manner of house-warming presents. Billa was certain that when the dwarves arrived, they would be blown away by the generosity of the hobbits.

Thorin himself oscillated between being impressed at the results and aghast at the charity. However, every time he started to complain to Billa she somehow twisted the conversation around and started talking about something completely different instead, like stories from Fili and Kili's little dwarfhood, or embarrassing stories about Dwalin. Those she especially savored, holding them close until the time came for blackmail. She and Thorin would laugh and talk for hours, and only after they had said goodnight would Thorin remember that he wanted to object to all this charity. He would approach her with that in mind the next day, only to be deflected again and drawn into conversation, his concerns forgotten.

Dwalin was handling all this attention extremely well. His steady character and level head ensured that there were no fights over his attention, as he was polite, if gruff, and never made any promises or raised expectations. He also, after a through explanation of courting habits in the Shire, was meticulously sure to never damage any reputations, or put up with any cruel gossip among his fans. He had become a heart-throb, but he was a kind one.

He was also easy to convince into giving group 'dancing' lessons. He would start the girls and lads off, tsk a little at their endurance, and send them off to do laps or pushups or any manner of exercise, and slowly their stamina increased. He already had an eye on several of the more promising and open-minded students, which he planned to slowly integrate into an _advanced_ class of sorts, where he would start to teach them better reflexes and eventually train them in the swords Thorin was forging.

* * *

Amidst all this change, the stone-masons from Ered Luin finally arrived. Billa was terrified that something would go wrong, a fight or a thoughtless word that could bring all the inter-species goodwill they had built up crashing down around their ears, but Dwalin and Thorin took pains to ensure all would be well. After the night they saw firelight on Needle Point, Dwalin and Thorin rode out together to meet the incoming dwarves.

Billa didn't know what was said or threatened, but she did know that these new craftsmen were on their best behavior, and were some of the most polite dwarves she had ever seen in her life. They all bowed low to her, when they met her, calling her "Lady Billa," and eyeing with wonder the braid and bead in her hair. She wondered what Dis and the others had told them.

Balin had come with the dwarves, and after Thorin and Dwalin enthusiastically introduced her, she insisted that he stay with them in Bag End instead of down in the open by the smials. She entertained him on the way back with tales of Dwalin's heroics, and took great pleasure in the disbelief on Balin's face and the pink in Dwalin's cheeks. She made Balin as comfortable as she could, knowing that he was getting on in years. She guided all three of them to the study, where she had made sure there was an arrangement of comfortable chairs, as many maps as she had and as much parchment and ink as she could muster, as well as a platter filled with wine and a decadent arrangement of sandwiches and sweetmeats. Balin groaned in appreciation as he sunk into a deep armchair by the desk, and complimented her profusely on her hospitality.

"I'm sure I've never felt more comfortable and welcome in my life, Lady Billa, than I do right at this very moment. You are certainly a perfect host, and these old bones thank you," he said, smiling kindly at her. She blushed, and then politely took her leave, leaving the dwarves in the study to catch up and make their own plans. She rode down to the smials to ensure all was going smoothly, and it was a good thing she did!

The hobbits who were still down there clearing out mud and the dwarves who had just arrived to rebuild the walls were arguing about who was to work when and where, and Billa, seeing trouble coming, charged in.

Now, Billa didn't know this, but she was starting to cut quite a figure amongst both the dwarves and the hobbits. To the hobbits, her metal-enhanced, ever-present walking stick, the bead in her hair and the new dwarven style in her clothes were almost as imposing as the new confidence in her bearing and the charisma and certainty she exuded. She had gone from a shy, quiet shut-in to a power-house of influence with the ear of the Thain, and after the shock had passed, she was looked up to and admired. She almost certainly would have been considered un-respectable for her choice in companions, except that she had endeared her companions to the whole of the Shire, and for every one hobbit who scorned her, there were four who came to her defense.

Among the dwarves, she was certainly a curiosity. A beautiful lass with her beard on her feet, who had lost her family to violence as many among them had, a princess among her people and yet bearing the bead of dwarven royalty in her hair, and laboring with all her influence to make them welcome in her homeland. As she charged in on a white pony, wearing a deep purple gown of obvious quality, the bead in her hair glinted warningly at them, and everyone quickly fell silent, waiting her judgment.

She didn't bother to dismount, preferring the authority that height often lent her.

"Good folk," she called, sharply bringing them to order, "I see we have only borne each other's company for an hour at most, and yet problems have arisen. I am most disappointed," she said. Many of the hobbits hung their heads, and despite her being fairly unknown to the dwarves, whatever Dis, Thorin and Dwalin had told them seemed to work, for many of them looked down as well, avoiding her eyes.

"Whatever the problem is, let us solve it. Who speaks for this fine work crew of dwarrow?" she asked, her eyes peering through the crowds around her. A familiar pair of dwarves stepped forward, and a smile burst on her lips.

"Mister Bifur and Mister Bofur?" she asked. They nodded, astounded that she knew their names, and later she would pretend that someone in Bag End had mentioned them, and they would be so pleased that dwarves close to the King knew their names, and she would feel guilty.

"Gentleman, how long will it take you to determine exactly what is needed on each smial?" she asked, and they drew near to answer her, Bofur translating for Bifur and eyeing her strangely when she didn't seem to blink an eye at Bifur's forehead or his obviously garbled speech. While she listened to Bofur, she made sure to speak to both of them, and it quickly earned her a cautious smile from Bifur, which she returned readily.

Finally, she had things organized. Hobbits would continue cleaning two of the three smials while the third was evaluated by the dwarves. When the evaluation was done, the dwarves would move to the next smial and the hobbits would clean the one they had just left. Thankfully, this would be the last day the hobbit work-force would be needed, and then the dwarves would have the work-site to themselves.

She spent the rest of the day at the work-site, answering questions, and soothing ruffled feathers. When Bofur was busy for a moment, she carefully drew Bifur aside.

"Mister Bifur, hobbits pride themselves on their hospitality and being courteous hosts. Since all of you have come to repair the smials that I currently own, that means that you are my guests and under my protection. I would be very, very poorly thought of if I allowed any guest of mine to go hungry, or be cold, or do without necessary tools. It could create a scandal, and that's the last thing we need right now. I plead with you, Mister Bifur, if there is anything that you need or that you see is needed here at this work-site, or anyone gets into any kind of trouble, please send for me," she said, clutching one of his large hands in both of hers. He was staring at her, probably surprised at her ready acceptance of him and the way she confided in him.

"Please, Mister Bifur, will you promise to send for me?" she implored him. After a few moments of hesitation, his pride warring with his understanding of her reputation, but finally he nodded, patting her hands kindly. She beamed at him.

"Thank you Mister Bifur! Thank you!" she said happily, squeezing his large hand. He smiled back at her, and an understanding was born.

Bofur, for all his outward friendliness, was a little slipperier to deal with. He smiled and joked gently with her, but he never seemed to let his guard down. It was a little hurtful, but she decided that all she could do was give it time. Then, she spotted Bombur, away from the crowd, cooking up a storm by the fire, and she couldn't help but make her way over to see him.

"Mister Bombur," she said quickly, as he only barely could spare her a glance, "I am an expert dicer and slicer of vegetables. May I offer my assistance?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, of course," he replied vaguely, gesturing to a pile of potatoes. "Skins on, and dice them," he said. She hid a fond smile as she diced the potatoes, knowing that he would probably be embarrassed when the rush was over and he realized exactly who he had set to dicing his potatoes. Still, he had been her friend and they had spent many hours cooking over the fire together, and she would do all she could to set him at ease.

Forty minutes later, her fingers were numb from gripping the knife so tightly, but she had finished dicing everything Bombur directed her to. He, too, was finished, and four huge cauldrons of stew were bubbling merrily, while fourteen pans of bread were baking slowly.

Bombur mopped the sweat from his brow and finally turned to her. "Thank you very much, Miss...?" he asked. She had swept the braid over her shoulder, out of sight so as not to give him a heart attack.

"Miss Billa, Mister Bombur." Her precautions were for nothing, for when he heard her name, he paled and took a step back. She continued as if she hadn't seen this reaction at all. "Thank you for letting me assist in cooking this fine meal, Mister Bombur. Hobbits take hospitality very seriously, and it's been weighing heavily on my mind that I couldn't feed you all out of my own kitchen or house you all in my smial. Being able to assist such an obviously excellent cook in providing dinner has helped to ease my conscience. May I come down again sometime and help?" she asked sweetly.

Bombur's already red cheeks darkened even further at her praise. "Of- of course, Lady Billa," he said nervously, wringing his hands. "Whatever you wish."

That was not the reaction she was looking for. Why couldn't she get him to smile? She decided to try smarter, not harder. "In fact, Mister Bombur," she said quietly, glancing around and coming nearer, "I've been having a little bit of trouble in my own kitchen." She made a shushing gesture, and he gave a serious nod. He would keep this a secret until his deathbed, she thought, from the look he was giving her. "I've made a variety of hobbit dishes, and my guests seem to be very appreciative, but I have absolutely no experience in making popular dwarvish dishes, and I would very much like to learn. It would only be polite, you understand, to have such familiar foods available."

Bombur nodded quickly. As an experienced cook, he _did_ understand.

Billa continued. "I know you're a very busy dwarf, Mister Bombur, and only a chef of your caliber could possibly prepare these large, delicious meals for such an enormous group, but if ever you were to find the time, I would love to learn." This, it seemed, was finally the right thing to say. He beamed at her.

"Of course, Lady Billa. Anytime you want to come down here and observe or even," he hesitated, "or even _help_ , you are more than welcome," he said, nodding firmly, and Billa beamed at him. She took his hand and shook it, amused when his grip was as gentle as he could possibly make it.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Mister Bombur! Thank you," she said, and as she went away, they were both smiling.

* * *

Having done all she could for the dwarves that day, and knowing that Bag End was full of dwarves who were probably still catching up with each other, Billa decided to take a tour of some of the pubs in the area, and see what people were thinking.

She would walk in, listen for a half hour or two, and even buy a few rounds before she left. She left the first two pubs to the sound of cheers, but when she entered the Green Dragon, it was very quiet, and she knew something was up.

There was a hooded figure in the corner, and a ten-foot radius around him where hobbits refused to sit. The hobbits were all casting nervous looks at the figure, and when Billa entered, various looks of relief crossed the room. Taking the hint that there was a problem and they wanted her to deal with it, Billa called for a round, for herself and the figure, and the entire room. She sat down across the table from him as the server brought two ales over, and the mysterious figure's features came into view.

His beard was long, dark red coming to three points, each point with a long metal bead at the end. And then he looked up, and Billa couldn't resist a smile. Nori, thief, trouble-maker, and future Spymaster of Erebor, had come to the Shire.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked gruffly, obviously preferring to be left alone. She pretended he meant it sincerely.

"Mister Nori, you are a man of many skills," she said softly, keeping her voice down. Seeing her engage the stranger had soothed the other hobbits and their conversations had risen to a comfortable hum, but she did not want to be overheard. "I would like to hire you," she said.

His face purpled, and he hissed at her. " _I am no thief for hire, and I will not be treated as one!"_ he said, and it was only because she knew him so well that she recognized shame and hurt in his eyes.

"Mister Nori," she said placatingly, "My fingers are light enough that should I need a thief, I don't need to hire one." She put a dwarven coin purse on the table in front of them. He stared at it, eyes narrowed, and subtly shifted a hand to check his belt. Indeed, that was his own coin purse that Billa had carefully lifted as she came over. He glared at her, suspicious.

"What I need," she continued, "is to ensure that relations between dwarves and hobbits remain peaceful, and that each party involved has all their needs met. I need to know about conflicts before they happen, so I can engineer a peaceful solution." She held his gaze for a few moments. "Are you available for hire under these circumstances?" she asked.

He glared at her, still mistrustful but also just a little bit intrigued. "I'm listening," he said begrudgingly.

She nodded. "May I have your word that, should you decline to join my employ, you will keep what you learn from me in confidence?" she asked gravely.

"If you mean to plot against the king-" he said angrily, and she shook her head quickly.

"Thorin Oakenshield is your highest authority, and I respect that," she said. "That is as it should be. My plans are for his benefit and he has knowledge of," she wobbled a hand in a 50-50 gesture, " _most_ of them. If you wish, we may adjourn to my lodgings and continue this interview with him present," she offered.

He stared at her, judging her worth and her integrity with angry eyes that had seen a very hard life. She bore them patiently.

"That won't be necessary," he said finally. Billa nodded. "Perhaps you can explain what's been going on around here. I keep hearing stories about Dwalin, Defender of the Weak and Protector of the Innocent," he snorted derisively.

Billa grinned. "That was one of my better plans," she admitted, keeping her voice down. The hobbits around them were finally at full-volume, but she eyed them carefully, falling quiet if anyone came too near, and Nori did the same. "Hobbits are rarely accepting of outsiders, especially scary looking ones. Dwalin's the scariest dwarf I've ever seen, so I knew that if I could get hobbits to accept him, other dwarves would easily follow. So I made him into something of a folk hero. He staged a lot of rescues, I told a lot of gossip, and now he's a favorite," she said.

"Hm," Nori said shortly. "And what other plans are there to come?"

Billa grinned. "The most important thing is that I know about conflicts before they happen," she repeated. "Today at the work-site, the dwarves had been there for less than an hour before there was a full-blown shouting match between the two work forces, and I had to wade in to sort things out. You dwarves have had a rough life, traveling far and enduring a lot of difficulties and suffering. You are proven warriors who have done hard things to survive," she said. Nori nodded, grimly.

"Hobbits, on the other hand," she continued, "have lived here in the Shire, in plenty and in ease, for all their lives and their parents' lives. The only hardship we have faced in this generation was the Fell Winter of 2911, when the river froze and goblins and wolves came in raiding parties. We were already starving from the long winter, but they would rip into homes and drag out the occupants, leaving horrifying remains," she explained. "That was twelve years ago, and nothing has changed since then. We still have no weapons, eschew outsiders, and know nothing of defense. We are terribly vulnerable, and we deliberately refuse to think of it. Our entire lives consist of gardening, parties, food, and gossip," she said. Nori was eyeing her thoughtfully.

"The problem," she said, "is how these two very different groups will react when conflict comes, as it surely will. I have several plans to... manufacture a little bit of trouble, and have dwarves come to the rescue in order to cement their image as protectors and good people to have around," she said. "I'm hoping to circumvent any unknown difficulties and keep things peaceful between our peoples. Is that something you can help me with, Mister Nori?" she asked.

He stroked his beard-braids thoughtfully. "Tell me more about this 'manufactured' trouble you have in mind," he said.

"I'm not sure if you've heard," she said, "but I first met Mister Kili in Bree, when a group of Men were attacking him for being on the wrong side of town. If such a group of men were to suddenly find themselves in the Shire, near the work-site, on a day when the ladies of the Shire were visiting to provide food and a party, and the dwarves were to defend them..." she trailed off, shrugging lightly.

"It's very much like what I did for Mister Dwalin. I made messes, and he starred as the hero who fixed them. A few incidents like that would be very helpful in keeping the goodwill of the Shire with the dwarves of Erebor," she finished.

"What's the pay like?" he asked. She inclined her head.

"I am very flexible, Mister Nori. I can pay you in gold, or goods, or services, and I'm open to negotiation," she informed him. He pursed his lips and stared at her for a few moments.

"I have a younger brother, not much of a warrior, wants to become a scribe and needs a teacher," he said shortly.

"A teacher in what, exactly?" she asked. He shrugged roughly. "Writing, story-telling, drawing, languages if you can manage that," he said. "Can you find him one?" he asked.

"Mister Nori, in exchange for your aid in my plans and your information, I will take your brother for three days a week and teach him everything I know about stories, writing, and languages. I'm afraid I'm no good for drawing, but I'm willing to let him practice and admire his art work, or even commission a few pieces from him if he's talented," she offered.

He looked her up and down, conveying his skepticism of her suitability as a teacher without saying a word. She laughed. "If, after one month, your brother is not satisfied, I will do my best to find him a substitute or we can renegotiate payment," she offered, and he nodded.

"Very well, Lady Billa," he said, sweeping into a bow that was partly mockery and partly sincere. That seemed to be Nori's natural state, and she had missed it. "My brothers will be arriving with the other caravans. I will ensure that you are introduced to Ori when they arrive. In the meantime, when are your ladies going to be going to visit the work-site?" he asked.

Billa grinned, and together they got down to business.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

In the sparring/dancing scene, imagine something like a tango with lots of sharp, sudden movements followed by sweeping turns and spinning your partner in and out. And then add a staff and imagine trying to hit and trip up your partner while also trying to avoid being hit or tripped up, and still having to match your partner's moves. That is what Billa and Dwalin are doing here.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 26

With the reassurance that Nori was keeping an eye on things, and Bifur had promised to send for her if there were any problems, Billa was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief and relax a little.

That morning, she sparred with Dwalin while Balin looked on, her walking stick against his axe. She always lost, but she was lasting longer and longer against his onslaught, and was starting to give him his own share of bruises to match hers.

Then there was the familiar giggle of approaching females and Balin laughed in his chair, deep, uproarious laughter, when he saw the spar turn into a dance lesson. Dwalin traded his axe for a staff, and Billa gained a skirt, and they continued to spin around each other with staves, but this time with a lot more spinning and moving together in a graceful but still mildly violent display.

"Very good, Lady Billa," Dwalin said in a grave voice while he spun her away, suddenly swiping his staff at her feet. She jumped gracefully over it as she swung her staff at his head. He ducked, and they landed and joined hands to continue the dance. Dwalin had really started to fill his role with relish and gusto, which Billa found particularly amusing. "You perform this native dance of my homeland particularly gracefully, Lady Billa. Would that my partners always had your skill," he said, as he dodged another swing from her staff.

Balin was still laughing, trying hard not to fall out of his chair.

Later, in the market, Billa reassured several hopeful girls that Mister Dwalin had arranged for dance teachers to come to the Shire, who would be able to help them improve so they could surprise and impress Mister Dwalin with the fact that they could dance his native dances, too.

"Of course, ladies, these dances are not easy to learn. His family is a family of strong, proud warriors, and many of these dances feature staffs or swords in a tribute to their culture," she said. "Mister Dwalin himself is considered an expert dancer, and his favorite dance features an ax," she informed them, and their eyes got huge.

"Mister Dwalin dances... with an axe?" one girl said, her lip trembling. Fearing that she had pushed them too quickly, but knowing it was too late to take it back, Billa could only nod and hope for the best.

"Mister Dwalin, Mister Dwalin!" they cried, as they turned away from her almost in unison and scampered towards him.

"Is it true, Mister Dwalin? Do you dance with an axe?"

"Is it heavy?"

"Of course it's heavy, but Mister Dwalin is so strong."

"He's so strong, I bet he could lift all of us!"

"Can you, Mister Dwalin?"

"Lift us, Mister Dwalin!"

"How big is your axe, Mister Dwalin?"

"Do you really dance with it?"

"Will you show us?"

"Yes, please Mister Dwalin?"

"Please!"

"Yes, please!"

Dwalin stared at them for a moment, and Billa laughed at the sight. There he was, the tall tattooed dwarf who towered head and sometimes shoulders around everyone else, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls who were probably a sixth of his age and they hung around him, clinging to his arms and reaching up to tug on his beard and taking all manner of liberties with his person.

Dwalin, who was able to take down a warg with a single swing of his axe, bore it all stoically and treated them gently, dislodging their fingers from his beard and patting their heads gently while they gazed adoringly up at him. He seemed to treat them more like a flock of frolicking puppies and less like a following of love-lorn admirers. Billa herself wasn't really sure which description was more accurate.

"You lasses really want to see me dance with my axe?" he asked them. "It's a fearsome sight, and I don't want to scare you," he told them gruffly. They cooed and nudged each other, pleased with his concern.

"We're not afraid!" they told him in a chorus, and he smiled bemusedly at them.

"Very well, lasses. If you come by Bag End just after afternoon tea, you'll see me practice dancing with an axe," he promised them. "Now go on, lasses, off with you," he jerked his chin to where most of their mothers were shopping, alternating between chatting and watching their daughters swarm the local hero indulgently. Still giggling amongst themselves, the girls skipped away, and Dwalin watched them go, still smiling.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 27

After they returned from the market, Billa packed a large lunch into a basket, and rode down to the forge to feed Thorin. He'd been working particularly hard to finish the order of swords and shields for the Thain, and Billa had hardly seen him.

As her pony came nearer to the forge, she could hear the sound of his hammer pounding, but also the sound of his rich, deep voice singing in time as he worked. Enchanted, she carefully dismounted and crept silently closer. She'd never heard him sing anything so cheerful before. Knowing Thorin, it was probably a battle-chant about beheading his enemies. He was singing in Khuzdul, so she couldn't really tell what he was singing, but he sounded cheerful and that was enough for Billa.

She peeked through the doorway, and there he was, hammering away. He was even smiling! Billa grinned at the sight. Perhaps it was just the fact that his people were going to be warm and safe this winter, but Billa had never seen Thorin so light-hearted as he had been these past few weeks. It was a relief to see that her plans were working and that the lives of her dwarves were already improving.

After several weeks of staying with her, Thorin's and Dwalin's cheeks were a little fuller, and there were no shadows under their eyes. She hadn't noticed the difference until more dwarves had arrived, and she'd seen their hollow cheeks in comparison. She watched more closely now, and exulted at every minor improvement she saw.

Nori's demeanor was slightly less suspicious and a little kinder. Each time he came to report to her, he smiled a little more often.

Bifur could frequently be seen picking flowers, even learning how to weave them from brave little fauntlings who dared to approach him. He had won them over quickly, and was soon seen weaving flower crowns for the little ones, and even wearing the ones they made for him. He looked so pleased that none of the other dwarves dared to say a word.

Bombur had relaxed around her, accepting her help and exchanging recipes with her. He was interested in hobbit cooking, and was willing to teach her a little about dwarven cooking. They laughed often as they talked.

Bofur was still a little cautious, but that might be just because he was heading up the work crews and had little time to spare. Still, all of the dwarves looked a little bit plumper and a little less hunted, and that was enough for now.

Thorin finished his song and the sword, and Billa knocked on the door frame just as he was wiping his hands on his smock. She had made that smock when she first overheard him complain about the heat in the forge. He had never taken his tunic off after her prank on him, and Billa felt a little guilty. So, she made him a smock that kept his chest covered but at least left his arms and back free. She thought it was better than nothing, and he thought it was better than a tunic, and so he wore it faithfully. It still bared his back to her, but she was getting better at being able to think and converse through the haze of confusion in which his bare body always seemed to leave her.

Thorin smiled as he saw her.

"Billa! Come in. I've just finished the last of the swords for your Uncle. What do you think of them?" he asked, pleased with himself. Billa grinned, setting down her basket and picking up one of his swords.

"Bring one outside with me," she challenged, "And we'll see how you and your work hold up against a real hobbit lass." He snorted, but took picked up a sword as well and followed her outside.

"This 'real hobbit lass' is going to be smushed like a bug," he told her smugly, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Dwalin hadn't trained her with a sword in this lifetime, but she remembered the rough training she had received on the Quest. It was more than Thorin expected her to have, at least. She knew she wouldn't win, but she wanted to at least give him a good smack.

She fumbled and dropped her sword at the very beginning, knowing he would underestimate her. However, instead of brutally trouncing her like he had on the quest, he started off slowly and gave her plenty of time to block his swings and guess where he was aiming. It was a sweet gesture, and she smiled at him. Instead of bursting into motion and smacking him with her sword before running away, like she had originally thought of doing, she took the lesson he offered and they spent a happy hour working together in the sun.

Afterwards, sweating and hot, they took the picnic basket down to the nearby stream and dipped their feet in the water as they ate a late lunch.

"Your feet are so funny looking," Billa teased him. This was the first time since he'd been staying with her that she'd ever seen him without socks or boots on. "The boots are so weird and square, and the woolly sock-hats for your feet are hilarious, but your feet are just so funny looking. I've never seen them close up," she said. He snorted at her teasing, but drew his now-pruny feet out of the cool stream and angled them towards her, wiggling his toes at her.

"By all means, your highness," he said, his voice dry, "feel free to examine my royal feet at your leisure." She laughed at him, but returned the favor. He stroked her foot hair gently while she inspected his toes.

"I liked the swords," Billa told him suddenly as she petted the top of his feet absently. "They feel balanced and easy in my hands. You did fine work," she said, smiling, and he smiled gently back. "I'm sure the shields will take longer to finish, but we should probably agree on a fair trade so we can get supplies sent off to Ered Luin before there's snow on the roads," she said, and he nodded, his smile fading.

"I should take the supplies back myself," he said, and Billa's heart sank a little. _Of course he'd have to go,_ she reminded herself. _He's the king, and he has to look out for all of his people, not just the ones here._

"I'll be sad to see you go, my friend," she told him honestly, "But I understand why you have to. What do you consider fair trade for the swords?"

"I'm torn between taking the blankets we discussed or the grain," he said, and she hmmmed.

"Well," she said pragmatically, "You are a man of your word. We will get the shields in the spring, so we may as well pay you in full now," she said.

Thorin made to argue but she pinched his foot warningly. He raised an eyebrow at her and she pinched it again. "Watch yourself, Oakenshield," she said playfully. "I've got your toes here, and I'm not afraid to hold them hostage until you meet my demands!" she threatened him, wiggling one of his toes with her fingers. He huffed at her silliness.

"Dwarves don't do it that way," he told her gruffly. "Payment is only rendered when the services have been provided in full."

Billa gently flicked one of his toes. "Then why did you take that coin purse in Bree?" she asked him indignantly.

He smirked at her. "Because you threw it at my head, you little she-devil." Billa huffed and put her nose in the air, turning her head away from him.

"That's no way to speak to a princess," she said loftily, and then squeaked when he pinched her pinky toe. She tugged her feet back, glaring at him reproachfully.

"Are you or are you not a man of honor, Thorin Oakenshield?" she said sternly.

He raised his eyebrow incredulously, about to take offense. "You know I am," he growled.

"Well then," Billa said, shrugging dismissively, her ire gone as soon as it had come, "you will take the full payment of blankets and grain when you go back to Ered Luin, and we will expect you sometime next year with the shields," she said. "You have assured me that you are a man of your word, and I believe it to be true. Therefore, I know we will get the shields we need eventually, and I feel no compunction about paying you in full."

He started to protest again, and she drew a sly, curious finger down the length of his foot, from toes to heel. He jerked his foot back, toes curling.

"Don't do that," he warned her. Delighted by his strange reaction, she did it again. He tried to pull his foot away, but she held on firmly, grinning.

"Why does it do that?" she asked, excited. "What does it feel like?"

"Give your feet over here and I'll show you exactly what it feels like," he grumbled at her. "My feet are ticklish," he admitted.

Billa's head tilted to the side like a confused puppy. "Ticklish? On your feet?" After a moment of bemusement, she started laughing, throwing her head back. Thorin glared at her when she tumbled onto her back, still laughing. "Whoever heard," she wheezed, clutching her stomach, "of ticklish feet? Feet! Oh, your feet are so silly!"

Thorin growled grumpily, his dignity wounded, and proceeded to ignore her until Dwalin came to fetch them for afternoon tea.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 28

After afternoon tea, a small crowd was swelling around the front porch of Bag End. Rumors of Dwalin's axe dancing had spread, and hobbits of all ages had come to see the spectacle.

Billa put on a party dress, and Dwalin and Thorin put on some of the clothes Billa had had tailored for them. They were a little hobbitish in nature, white shirts, suspenders and brown trousers, along with their boots. Billa thought it would help make a good impression, and she was right. As soon as their little party exited Bag End, there was a huge cheer. Balin, who had been smoking on the front porch, looked interested and amused.

Billa and Dwalin started with staves, spinning and striking and Billa followed Dwalin's lead. It was her best display yet, and the hobbits were suitably impressed. After several minutes, the dance ended when Billa didn't manage to dodge one of Dwalin's swings. He stopped it before it struck her, and they both froze, and then Billa slumped and went to sit beside Balin, the picture of disappointment.

"Don't worry, lass," Dwalin reassured her in front of the crowd. "You're coming along quite nicely." Billa perked up and smiled at him, and the hobbits smiled too. Even when he -won?- the dance, Mister Dwalin was a perfect gentleman. They had all expected nothing less.

"But what about your axe, Mister Dwalin?" came an anxious female cry, and the question was quickly taken up by the rest of the hobbits.

Dwalin bellowed a laugh. "Are you sure I've not scared you off, my friends?" He called, and there was a quick cry of _No! Of course not, Mister Dwalin!_

Dwalin's lips twisted into a menacing little grin, the grin he got before battle. This little display was not so unlike the crowds that gathered around the training grounds in Ered Luin, except that here, the crowd would probably faint at the sight of blood. "Very well, my friends," he said. "May I introduce my dance partner, Mister Thorin Oakenshield?" There was a chorus of cheers, and then the two dwarves hefted their axes, and the hobbits went a little pale.

They had expected hatchets, actually, or wooden training axes like the staves Mister Dwalin had used with Miss Billa. These were no training or wooden cudgels. These were huge, heavy, intricate and dangerous-looking double-bladed axes, the likes of which the hobbits had never seen before. They stared for a moment, uncertain. _Would Mister Dwalin be all right?_ was the thought that crossed their minds in a flurry. Then they saw the way the dance started, and their amazement overwhelmed their worry.

Thorin and Dwalin faced each other, each holding an axe in their right hand. They started by tossing the ax up into the air, and catching it as it came down, their feet tapping in a steady rhythm. Then they started to add spins as they threw, still keeping in time with each other. The hobbits gasped, mesmerized (and terrified) by the way the spinning blades glinted in the sun. The dwarves hefted them as if they weighed nothing, and the thin hobbit-shirts the two dwarrow wore made it easy to see each muscle flex. Then, after they had added three spins, and then another three, and the axes seemed to be spinning wheels of death, they started moving. They caught their axes, and then Thorin swung at Dwalin, and Dwalin leapt over the ax, throwing his own swing. They went on this way, and it was beautiful to watch.

Balin and Billa knew that in a normal spar, there would be much clashing of metal, sparks flying and even the occasional spray of blood. Seeing as that would totally traumatize their audience, Thorin and Dwalin never deflected each other's blows, merely evading them as gracefully as they could. Being experienced warriors, their movements blurred until the hobbits were hardly sure who they were seeing, or where the axes would swing next. It was a completely mesmerizing display, and this dance of evasion lasted for twenty minutes until, at an indistinguishable signal, the dwarves began to slow again, adding elaborate tosses to the axes once more, even tossing them to each other, spinning them back and forth, catching them out of the air and sending them flying back at the owner.

Finally, they came to the grand finale, and Thorin tossed his axe to Dwalin and quickly stepped over to join Billa on the bench, and Dwalin took center stage, juggling both axes and tossing them easily into the air, spinning them at the same time, whirling them around his body in a complicated and truly impressive pattern. Then, one after another, he snatched them out of the air and, quick as lightning, the axes vanished out of his hands and seemed to disappear into thin air. Dwalin stood stock still, hands spread wide towards the audience, and then he bowed, and the hobbits exploded into thunderous applause.

* * *

After reassuring themselves that Mister Dwalin's amazing display had left him unharmed, Dwalin's fan club fluttered around him, offering him water or to use their handkerchiefs to wipe his brow, did he need to sit down? After he laughingly reassured them that he was fine, they immediately began chirping and cooing over his performance.

"Oh my, Mister Dwalin, that was amazing!"

"Yes, incredible!"

"I've never seen anything like it, Mister Dwalin!"

"Nor I, Mister Dwalin!"

"How do you do it, Mister Dwalin?"

"The axes look so heavy!"

"I'm sure I could never be so fast or strong as that, Mister Dwalin," one dark-haired lass said bashfully.

"Nonsense, Lily," Dwalin said calmly. "I've had decades of practice to get where I am, and with careful training, you could do the same."

The girls bounced in excitement at such a wild idea. Them, learn how to _dance with an AXE?_ _Oh, how exciting it would be_. Then Lily sagged sadly.

"If only that were possible, Mister Dwalin," Lily said dejectedly. "My parents would never let me practice with such a dangerous thing." As one, the girls drooped, reality crashing in on them with dream-crushing force.

Dwalin scoffed. "You think I started learning with an ax?" He actually had, but there was no need for any of them to know that. Balin, who often like to tease that Dwalin had been born with an axe in his hand, made to open his mouth and share this story and Billa had to elbow him sharply back into silence before he ruined the moment. Balin blushed a little and went back to listening.

"I started just the way I've been training Lady Billa- with a stave of wood. As you saw earlier, Lady Billa's improving a great deal, and in time she could be as fast as I am," Dwalin told his admirers.

"If only we had someone to teach us," one of the girls said slyly, giggling as Dwalin turned his attention on her.

"Well, Little Jenny, some of my kin who will be arriving in a month's time have offered to teach dancing lessons for a small fee from anyone who wants to learn," he said, and that news, and descriptions of the spectacle which inspired it, was taken up like a wildfire and spread all throughout the Shire.

* * *

It was odd, Balin mused, to see how much Thorin and Dwalin had changed in the few months since he had seen them. Months ago, Thorin had been just as he'd been since the loss of Erebor and his father and grandfather: bitter, brittle, angry, and as hard as stone. He'd been laboring away, trying to put food on the tables of his dwarves, and helpless to do anything when bandits, raiders, orcs, sickness, and death conspired to take even more from them. He'd done everything he could to take care of his people, and when it just wasn't enough, he would sink a little further into despair, and it had broken Balin's heart to watch.

Dwalin had been much the same, hardened and toughened until Balin hardly recognized him. He'd followed his king, guarding his back and buoying him up where he could, but he could only do so much, and seeing his efforts fail left him feeling as helpless as Thorin did. Those two lads had leaned on each other, descending further into hopelessness, trusting only a few because so many had betrayed them.

Here, in the Shire, it was as if they had gone back to their carefree youth, before the Fall of Erebor. Balin had expected to meet the grim warriors that he had said goodbye to months ago, and instead met with smiling, laughing friends who had cheerfully regaled him with stories as they rode into the Shire together. And then the hobbit, plying him with wine and seating him in the most comfortable chair he'd ever experienced, offering refreshments before going off to oversee the work-site so they could share their news unrestrained.

That Thorin had _trusted_ the hobbit to oversee the work-site was itself incredible. Thorin's trust was incredibly difficult to gain, and the hobbit lass had managed it in a couple of months? Balin was astonished.

Thorin, seeing his astonishment, had said that she was a princess of the Shire, as if that explained things. Dwalin had snorted at that, and shot him a sly wink as he nodded towards Thorin. Balin took a moment to process what he meant, and rejected the first idea that came to mind. _Thorin, have feelings for the lass?_ he scoffed. _Impossible._

Dwalin gave him a knowing look and a shrug, as if to tell him to wait and see. Throughout the discussion, Balin had to admit that the impossible idea was starting to make more and more sense, and worse, he could easily understand why.

This lass had taken them in, and had offered them shelter, food, and belonging without insulting or trying to take advantage of them. When Thorin explained more about the plans for the young and the elderly, Balin almost fell off his chair.

Long it had galled them that each winter they lost so many and there was so little they could do about it. What this hobbit offered in exchange for some swords, shields, and rent money was a way to keep the most vulnerable members of their race alive, with their pride and families intact. She offered blankets and supplies to keep the rest of them alive, too. She offered lucrative trade to help them increase their wealth, and the hope of a future alliance, and as Balin eyed the subtle new plumpness in Thorin's and Dwalin's cheeks, the flush to their skin and the faint smiles on their lips, Balin knew that the suffering of his people was almost over.

A new age was coming. Thanks to a chance meeting with a hobbit princess in Bree, it had already begun.

Later, when he watched the hobbit scheme and fuss behind closed doors about gossip and stories and displays, he thought she was a little mad, but then she invited him to watch their training session. He was impressed at her growing skill against his brother, but when he heard a group come up the way, he was amazed to see Dwalin hide his beloved axes and take up a stave, and the hobbit lass threw a skirt on over her leather training trousers. And then, they had started to dance!

At first he had laughed at the hilarity of it. His brother, Dwalin, dancing with a hobbit in front of a group of his young admirers. He had been close enough to hear their whispered comments about how Dwalin was so tall, and so strong, and so fast, and so brave, and wasn't his beard so handsome? He had snorted then and almost fallen off his chair, he was laughing so hard.

Later, though, he was surprised to find that it had worked and there was to be another demonstration, this time by Thorin and Dwalin with axes. He had thought it would be a normal spar, with blood and shouted curses and bruises. However, Dwalin and Thorin started to dance too! He had watched the display of skill, pretty as it was, and wondered how on earth this tame play-act was going to inspire the hobbits to war-training?

To his amazement, immediately after the display ended, Dwalin was swarmed with admiring young girls and his brother, who had long been as hard-hearted as a rock, had called them each by name, answered their questions, and encouraged them to train. As soon as the news that there would be teachers coming made the rounds, he saw girls and lads signing up to learn, each saying that they wanted to be as graceful and strong as Dwalin.

Then he realized what Billa had known all along. This wasn't to inspire the hobbits to take up war-training and become a conquering race. They never would be as war-like and fierce as the dwarves. All they could do was strengthen them and change a little of their culture, ingrain this skill of war-dancing so that in the future, if ever war came to the Shire, they would have the skills to survive.

Balin spent the evening in the room he shared with his brother, considering all that he had learned. He had been highly impressed by all that was going on here, but one thing disturbed him, deeply. One thing that weighed heavily on his mind and made him doubt this future between Dwarves and Hobbits. It concerned the last family he had in the world, his own little brother. If such a thing could affect _Dwalin_ , tough and strong and unyielding Dwalin, what hope did the rest of them have? Was this alliance, promising as it was, such a good thing in light of this new information? He spent hours waiting for Dwalin and worrying over this frightening new development. Finally, when Dwalin came in near midnight, Balin made his concerns known.

"Brother," Balin said gravely, "Why on earth do you have so many handkerchiefs?"


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 29

Billa had taken Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin down to the market just after elevensies. They were chatting cheerfully and negotiating over some fresh peaches when a terrified scream tore through the market. At once, everyone fell silent to listen.

"Help! Lily!" came a girl's voice. "They took Lily!" The hobbits gasped, looking heartbroken, and bowed their heads, grave. Lily's mother gave a keening wail and she collapsed to her knees, the hobbits near her crowding around to hold her in what little comfort they could offer.

Jenny came into view, bedraggled and pale-faced. Billa ran to her and spoke quickly. "Who took Lily? What did you see?"

Jenny blinked at her, confused. "Big Folk," she said, her voice a frightened whisper. The market was almost silent, and her words echoed eerily. "With chains. Lily told me to run so I did, but I saw them catch her and take her away," she whimpered.

Billa's heart clenched. In the years away from the Shire, she had forgotten about the painful rumor of her youth that hobbits did their best to ignore. Apparently it wasn't a rumor- it was true. They'd been helpless before against such things, but they weren't now.

"Where, Jenny?" she demanded. "Where were you, and which way did they go?"

"We were," her breath hitched and her eyes welled up. "We were exploring," she sniffled, "in Greenfields, looking for fairies. North." The hobbits shook their heads sadly. The girls had been playing on the very northern edges of the Shire. It was no wonder they'd been taken.

Billa nodded. "Good girl. You did well by coming to tell us. Find your mother and catch your breath," she said, gripping her shoulder reassuringly. Looking agonized by the loss of her friend, Jenny staggered towards her mother and dissolved into tears on her shoulder.

Billa grabbed Thorin roughly by the shoulders, turning him to face her.

"Slavers!" she told him urgently. "Thorin, one of the hobbits has been taken by slavers. They don't come often, and we've never had the means to go after them, and those few who tried disappeared or died. They're quick and fast, and they're usually gone before the Rangers even know they were here," she said, her voice shaking.

"Please, Thorin, can you help us? Is there anything we can do?" He stared at her, eyes hard.

"It hasn't been charity at all," he said quietly. "You truly need our help and our protection," he seemed almost surprised. Then he seemed to swell before her eyes, shedding the softness of the Shire and returning to the fierce warrior king of her memory.

"Please, Thorin!" she begged him, still clutching his shoulders. "I will do _anything_. Please help that girl."

Dwalin rumbled. "It's one of my girls, Lily."

Thorin nodded gravely. And then he bellowed.

"WE NEED PONIES, NOW," he roared, and hobbits shook at the sound of it. Billa darted forward, grabbed two hobbits familiar with horses, and dragged them away to Bag End to saddle the ponies.

"Yes sir!" she cried as she sprinted away. They followed after her, confused but trusting.

Thorin continued. "YOU!" a group of young hobbits cowered away from Thorin's pointing finger. "GET A MESSAGE TO THE DWARF CAMP."

"What do we tell them sir?" One of the hobbits mustered his strength and stood up straight.

"DU BEKAR. Slavers taking young ones, form an advance force of 15 muster at the work-site immediately, ready to ride," he said roughly, his face twisted into a familiar snarl as he, Balin, and Dwalin turned away to sprint after Billa. They'd need weapons and war-gear.

Billa instructed the hobbits quickly. "Saddle these ponies, as sure and as quick as you can," she commanded. One of them started to ask questions, but she cut him off quickly. "No time for that," she rebuked him. "Saddle them now."

She bolted into the pantry, throwing traveling rations and healing supplies into sacks. She left them by the door, and darted to her room. She put on her leather training gear and braided her hair away from her face. She strapped on one of Thorin's swords and the knives she'd bought from Nori before seizing her trusty walking stick and following the heavily armored Thorin, Dwalin and Balin down the hall and out the door.

She hauled up the bags of rations and dragged them after the dwarves. Thorin glanced at them curiously. "Travel rations," she said shortly, and he nodded.

"Lads," he said as he mounted a pony. The two hobbits jumped to attention. "Secure those bags to Lady Billa's pony."

Twenty ponies rode down the road towards the bridge, four of them mounted. It was a fearsome sight for the hobbits, to see their new guests in war gear and grim faces as they rode through the market. There was a grave silence as they passed, both in grief for Lily and fear for their friends.

"Thorin," Billa said quietly as she rode behind him, "If you need a scout, I offer my services. Hobbits are incredibly light on their feet and I will be all but invisible if you need me to be."

A sharp nod was all the recognition she got. Then Balin spoke. "Why didn't you tell us about the slavers, lass?" his voice was cold.

Billa gave a humorless snort. "I forgot. I wasn't even sure they were real," she said bitterly. "They were so rarely spoken about as a child. You were just warned never to wander too far, and when your friends disappeared, no one went looking. After the Fell Winter, I hardly left my house and I never heard about any other disappearances. When I was planning my trip alone to Bree, that particular danger never even crossed my mind. Bandits or robbers, maybe, but not slavers."

"Why'd you want our protection on the trip back, then, if you weren't afraid of the slavers?" Dwalin asked, his eyes scanning the road cautiously. They would reach the smials soon.

"I liked you," she admitted. "I wanted you to come and stay with me. I didn't think you'd come if I just invited you, so I asked for protection."

Balin snorted. "Are there any more of these deals where you don't actually want what you're asking for?" he asked wryly.

Billa shifted. "I'm satisfied with all of our current arrangements, and I think our current situation proves that the Shire needs the dwarves just as much or more than the dwarves need the Shire," she answered, neatly side-stepping Balin's question. "If Thorin feels that our arrangements are unfair due to the slavers, I am willing to renegotiate until he is satisfied."

"Shazara," Thorin said, tightly wound. Billa obligingly fell silent. They'd arrived. A force of 15 dwarves, armed and angry-looking, milled around restlessly. Their attention snapped to Thorin, and he reined in his his pony, Billa and the others following quickly.

"Mount," he said gruffly. "A lass has been taken by slavers. We go to retrieve her and slay the party. Bifur, you're tracking, we're heading north to the Greenfields. Billa, is there anything else we should know?"

Billa chose to ignore the acid undertone in his voice. He was justifiably angry, and she'd heard worse. "When you begin your assault, Dwalin should go to her and keep her eyes covered. Don't let her see the carnage during or afterwards. She's never seen blood spilled before. The roads directly east are usually patrolled regularly by Rangers, so I would expect our journey takes us more to the north, towards the Forodwaith and then east. The Haradrim are rumored to be notorious slavers. I can't think of a nearer market," she said.

Thorin nodded sharply. "You'll find no open market nearer, but slavers don't need an open market to thrive. Guide us to the Greenfields," he told her.

Grimly, Billa and Bifur took the lead.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

We've seen a lot of the hobbit culture in the past few chapters. In this, we see a little more about the dwarves and their culture.

Mom, you might not like this chapter. There's blood and hunting. Remember, the dwarves are on hard times. They are often starving, and are used to taking food where they can find it, when they can find it.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 30

They rode grimly through the Greenfields until they found the place Jenny described. Then, Bifur took over, and Billa dropped back to ride behind Thorin. Hours passed, and the fields turned into thick green forest.

When Billa heard stomachs start to rumble (including her own), she nudged her horse forward to ride beside Thorin.

"Thorin," she said quietly, speaking only to him, "the travel rations have been individually wrapped into parcels. Each parcel contains waybread, cheese, an apple, and dried meat. There should be nigh-on fifty parcels in each bag. I can begin handing them out on your word," she said.

"Do so," he said shortly. Billa nodded, and passed the first one to him. "Do you also wish for me to gather food along the way?" she asked.

"Stay near," he said as he took the packet. "Keep someone with you."

Instead of protesting that she could take care of herself, she thought that he had enough on his shoulders, and decided to give him the gift of obedience. "Yes, Thorin," she said, and then pulled up to Bifur, handing him a package.

"Lunch," she explained, tersely. "Thank you for helping to find her, Mister Bifur," she said solemnly.

Bifur looked at her, just as solemn, and nodded.

She maneuvered her pony around the rest of the party, handing out parcels, asking for their names, and thanking them personally. When she came to Dwalin, she handed him the food without speaking. He took her wrist before she could move away.

"What, no thanks for me, lass?" he asked.

"No need to," she told him quietly, somber, but fond. "If Thorin hadn't agreed to help, you'd have gone after her yourself, and I would have followed you," she told him. Dwalin nodded.

"That I would have," he agreed. "You truly did not know of the slavers?" he asked, just as quiet.

She shook her head grimly. "I was a child when I heard tell of them, and then went over a decade without hearing anything. When I ventured out, the risk did not cross my mind at all," she promised him.

Nori, overhearing, gave her a cautious gaze. She realized with a start, that he might think this was 'manufactured' trouble. When Dwalin released her, she finished handing out the parcels, making her way to Nori last.

"If this turned out to be a false alarm," Nori said as she handed him his lunch, "I think Thorin might kill whoever started it."

Billa nodded, understanding his warning. "This is _real_ trouble," she promised, reassuring him. He nodded back at her. "I've got to gather gather food for the night if we want our rations to last long. You keep a knife handy for any small game?" she asked.

He answered by letting one fly, killing a rabbit. Billa hopped down to retrieve it, handing her pony's reins to Nori. "Stay close," she said, and he nodded, waiting for her.

She retrieved the rabbit while Nori waited for her, and gathered whatever nearby edibles she could find. She stuffed the greens into the significantly lighter travel sack and then mounted up, still clutching the rabbit.

"Do you want me to skin that?" Nori offered, gesturing at the rabbit.

Billa shook her head. "I'll do it," she said. "You keep those knives handy. We'll need more meat than this for dinner."

Nori tied her reigns to his saddle while Billa focused on skinning the rabbit as neatly as possible. This was a difficult skill, particularly when on a rolling, rocking horse, and it had taken her some time to learn it from the dwarves, and even more time to perfect it. She had perfected it in memory, but this was the first time these hands had attempted it, and so she took her time and focused on precision instead of speed. When the rabbit was skinned, she used the pelt as a sort of table to keep the blood from getting all over her trousers and the saddle.

The dwarves eyed her skill with interest, curious and impressed.

"Mister Nori," she said, remembering the dwarves' rules for claiming of the meat and remains, "Anything in particular you claim?" When Billa had ridden with the dwarves, she had at first been horrified by this practice. She had actually retched the first time she had seen it, and they had laughed at her. It had taken her a long time to recover their lost respect, and she refused to make the same mistakes twice. On the way home from Erebor, she had practiced it herself, grieving, trying to keep them close, and wanting to prove herself.

Nori stifled a grin. "I'll have the heart and the pelt," he said, "but you can take the liver." Billa smirked internally. Obviously, he meant to shock her, having correctly guessed that hobbits were not in the habit of eating meat raw and warm. Billa, however, was aware that it was a compliment among dwarves. The heart, pelt, liver and brain were considered the most desirable parts, and Nori had gifted one of them to her.

"That's very kind of you, Mister Nori," she said placidly, carefully extracting the heart from the still-hot body. She handed it over, blood dripping from her hands, calm as anything. Nori stared, not expecting that reaction, but he took the heart and then, still watching her with wide eyes, ate it.

"May I wrap the meat in the fur and return the pelt to you tonight, Mister Nori?" she asked, as if there wasn't blood dripping into Nori's beard. He blinked at her.

"Ah, yes, Lady Billa," he said. "Of course."

Billa nodded. "Can I have my reins back? I need to get up to Thorin," she said. Those were the rules. The one who killed the game got first pick, but could gift a piece to anyone of their choosing. Nori had gifted the liver, a very nutritious part, to her. Next was the highest ranking person in the group, which in this party was Thorin.

Still taken aback by how calm she was, Nori carefully handed over the reins, looping them around her saddle horn so they wouldn't fall. She smiled at him.

"Thank you Mister Nori," she said, and spurred the pony up to Thorin.

"Thorin," she said. He glanced at her, eyes widening at the blood on her hands and the knife in her hand. "The heart, liver, and pelt have been claimed. What shall you have, sir?" She watched him look between the empty heart cavity and her clean mouth, obviously wondering who had gotten what. She blinked patiently at him.

"You may take my share, Billa," he said. Billa blushed at his consideration. That was an exceedingly generous gesture!

"Thank you, Thorin. That's very generous, and I'm pleased by your thoughtfulness," she said, her ears red. "Please, take your share. Mister Nori offered me the liver. I'm already beholden to you, Thorin, just for being here," she told him earnestly, smiling at him.

He smiled gently back, his own cheeks a little pink. "Very well, Billa," he said agreeably, pleased by her reaction. "I'll have the brain."

* * *

Next in precedence was Balin, who claimed the eyeballs, and then Dwalin, and down through the rest of the dwarves until the offal was all claimed. Bifur, as the only dwarf who really liked greens, took the stomach.

She wrapped the meat in the pelt and put it with the greens in her traveling sack, and then ate her liver. Thorin, whom she was riding near, watched each bite. She could feel the dwarves behind them watching, too, and she amused herself by imagining their wide eyes and surprised expressions.

When she was finished, she took a pocket handkerchief, dampened it from her water skin, and carefully washed the blood from her hands and dabbed at her mouth. The raw meat churned in her stomach, and she knew it would make a repeat appearance unless she had something to soothe her stomach. Thankfully, she had anticipated this and so included sprigs of peppermint in her pockets. She pinched off a few leaves, chewing them and swallowing them down until her stomach calmed.

When Thorin watches her with a little amusement, probably guessing her problem, she tries to deflect him. "You want one?" she offers sweetly. "They keep your breath fresh." He huffs gently and declines, watching her with soft eyes for a few moments. Then Bifur pulls back, signing something, and Thorin's face is hard again.

Thorin gestures to the group, and everyone is silent as they dismount. She follows, having no idea what they are saying and knowing Thorin will tell her when he needs to.

Three dwarves take the reins of the ponies and tie them up, staying behind to guard them. The rest of them creep forward through the trees, and Billa stays close to Thorin.

He notices her and pulls her close. He puts his mouth right against her ear, _her ear! In public!_ and Billa freezes, blushing violently. He's too close to notice though, and as he speaks, his lips brush against her ear, and his breathing warms and cools it in measures. His hair is brushing against her face, soft and silky and smelling like Thorin. Something warm and new zings through her body, and Billa is almost too mortified to hear what he's saying.

"Bifur says we're half an hour behind by pony, perhaps an hour on foot. We'll walk until we find them. We'll advance in movements, you scouting ahead each time. Can you follow the tracks and lead us toward the camp?" he asked. Then he pulled back and noticed her bright red face. From the tips of her ears and across her face, down into her blouse, she was blushing, and the sight made Thorin blush a little too. "Billa? What's wrong?" he asked, a little confused.

She swallows and musters herself to explain. "Ears," she manages, breathless and wide-eyed as she watches him, still so close and looming over her. "Hobbits-" she tries, "- s-sensitive," she finishes, still blushing. This garbled information turns Thorin's cheeks a little darker when he understands, but he smirks at her reaction.

"I'll just go now," she says, mortified, her body still thrumming from his unexpected caresses. Thorin grins and sends Bifur with her while he and the rest of the dwarves wait.

They stalk forward, following the trail. They go forward for twenty minutes, and then backtrack for five. Billa waits in place while Bifur returns to guide the others.

They go forward another twenty minutes, and then backtrack five again. Billa waits in place and Bifur guides the others.

Billa and Bifur stalk forward for ten minutes before they see the light through the trees. Billa puts a hand on Bifur's shoulder.

"Wait here," she says quietly. "I'll creep around and count sentries and numbers," she says. Bifur gives her a cautioning look. "Don't worry," she smiles at him. "I'll be invisible."

She creeps forward, silent and invisible. She sees the metal on her walking stick glint in the firelight, and crouches on the ground, behind some bushes, to rub dirt on it and dull the gleam. She rubs some on her face for good measure. Then she is sneaking forward again.

There are two sentries standing watch at either side of camp. There's a fire in the middle of the camp, and thirteen ruffians are sitting around having dinner. She counts twice. There is a tent, large enough for several people, but she cannot see into it.

She retreats to Bifur's side and tells him what she saw. "Go bring the others, and I will see if I can look inside the tent." He grimaces, but obeys, slinking back towards the dwarrow.

Billa moves around the camp until she can see into the tent, and what she sees breaks her heart. There are six figures. Three hobbits, two lads and a lass, as well as two young dwarves, and one elfling were chained together. The dwarves and the elf were filthy, and the elf had a bloody cheek, and they had obviously been held by these slavers longer than the hobbits. The two boys, Billa didn't recognize, but she recognized Lily who had dirt on her face and tear marks down her cheeks.

Having learned from the trolls that she shouldn't charge in without backup, Billa retreats to where Bifur and she last met, and waits.

After several minutes, they appear and Billa is glad to see them. Bifur comes first, and she whispers to him what she saw in the tent. He signs it to the others, and she sees their faces grow dark with renewed anger.

Billa goes to Thorin, where he stands with Dwalin and Balin, considering.

"Two sentries," she says softly as she joins them. "If we wait until they fall asleep, it would be easy to silence them and take the clearing as cleanly as possible."

In unison, the dwarves raise their eyebrows at her. "You mean, to kill them in their sleep?" Dwalin says skeptically.

Billa nods grimly. "The children have seen enough violence. If we woke the slavers, they could use them as hostages and force us to surrender. It's safer for them and us if we take them by surprise. Nori silences the guards with throwing knives, Dwalin sneaks through the camp to guard the children, and the rest of us kill them as quietly and efficiently as possible," she suggests.

Balin hesitates. "It does not seem honorable," he says.

Billa's face darkens. "They are child-stealers," she says coldly. "Taking children to sell them for profit into a life of suffering and cruelty."

Balin backs off. "Mother Bear," he acknowledges, and bows to her. Billa raises an eyebrow in question, and he smiles ruefully. "A term of respect and sometimes apology, applied to one who stands in defense of the weak, particularly children," Balin explains. "It means we recognize your concerns, and will adjust our strategy accordingly."

Mollified, Billa turns to Thorin. "You are the king, Thorin," Billa says, "My sword is yours. What shall we do?" she asks. She has given her opinion, but the final decision is Thorin's, and she wants him to know that she knows that, too, and is respecting his authority.

He strokes his beard as he looks at the distant firelight. "You snuck there and back, twice, without being seen?" he questioned.

"Yes," Billa confirmed. He nodded slowly.

"Nori will take out the guards," he said. "Billa will sneak into the tent and warn the children to be silent. They are chained together, yes?"

"Yes, as far as I could see."

"Hm. Dwalin will go next, with Olvin and Angar, to carry the children out. Billa will guide them back towards our ponies for ten minutes while we watch the camp. At ten minutes, they will put the children down and Billa will lead the children onwards to the ponies while Dwalin, Olvin and Angar return to us. When they return, we will take the camp."

Billa was guessing that by _take_ _the camp_ Thorin meant _have a rolicking good fight_ , but she knew better than to protest. She would have asked for Nori to come with her, to remove their chains, but she wanted Thorin to have as many warriors behind him as possible. She tried not to imagine the life draining out of his body on cold, snowy ground, blood on his face and his hands going limp. _This is not an ambush,_ she reminded herself. _He has fifteen dwarves to watch his back_ _and this time, we are not the hunted, we are the hunters._

"Who here has medical expertise?" she asked, trying to cover their bases. The dwarves shrugged, unconcerned, and Billa raised an eyebrow, incredulous. Then her eyes narrowed, and she jabbed a finger at them.

"If you boys come back injured, I will make sure you have cold food, damp beds, and moldy-smelling baths for the next three weeks!" she hissed quietly at them. "Do you understand me? Not a scratch, on any of you!" None of them had the good manners to act at all abashed, or to hide their rising excitement for the coming fight. Thorin was the worst, smiling openly at her. Idiot.

She huffed, irritated with them. "But if you do get injured," she said grudgingly, "I've some supplies in my bags, back at the ponies. Once I reach the ponies with the children, we'll come forward for thirty minutes with the ponies and supplies. That gives you forty minutes to settle this once the three dwarves return to you. I'm sure you'll have finished the fight by then," she said dismissively.

"And if we haven't?" Thorin said, goading her just a bit.

She glared at him and shoved him in the chest. He didn't have the decency to even _pretend_ to move. "I'll just have to come rescue you, then, won't I?" she said, more than a little viciously.

Thorin grinned.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 31

Billa waits by the camp, hiding in the bushes and waiting for the slavers to descend into sleep. She can hear Lily's sniffles from all the way over here. The poor girl's cheeks were smudged with dirt and streaked with tears, and it's one of the most pitiful sights that Billa has ever seen. She sighs silently, wishing she could let them know, somehow, that help was on the way. As she shakes her head sadly, she spies a flower out of the corner of her eye. Not just any flower, a spider flower. She fingers the handkerchief in her pocket, and an idea forms. A few minutes later, she finishes the message, tying the handkerchief around the flower and a sizable rock. She takes careful aim and then throws. The projectile soars through the air, into the tent and right into Lily's lap.

* * *

Lily is uncomfortable, cold, and scared. She sniffles and wipes at her eyes, but only smears the tears into the dirt on her cheeks, and her hand comes away muddy. _This wasn't supposed to happen,_ she thought. _I just want to go home!_ she whimpered.

She and Jenny had been playing and laughing, racing each other in the Greenfields and singing about fairies. They'd gotten separated, and Lily had stumbled onto a group of Men. At first she had been astounded at their size, but then she saw their expressions and a primal kind of fear kicked in, and she fled. They gave chase.

She found Jenny, and then screamed for her to run. She thought Jenny had managed to get away, but then the Men were on her and laughing and shouting at her. They'd hit her for running away from them, and then held her down and snapped chains around her wrists. When they finished, bruises were rising on her skin from their hands, and they started dragging her away by the chain, uncaring if she walked or was dragged the whole way.

Lily was drawn out of her fearful memories with a start as something landed in her lap. She stared, befuddled. Was that a - handkerchief? She shot wary glances around, but no one seemed to be looking at her. Where had it come from? Cautiously, she teased the knots apart, and then stared.

 ** _B. B._** was embroidered in one corner on the handkerchief in elegant, extravagant cursive. The lines curled around the edge, and in the opposite corner the lines combined into the Took and Baggins family crest. This handkerchief could only belong to Billa Baggins! But, how had it gotten so far from the Shire and into her lap?

A flower tumbles from the handkerchief. After a moment, she identifies it. _A spider flower?_ she wonders. _But why on earth would someone ask me to elope with them? This is hardly the time! Oh, think Lily! What else could 'elope with me' mean? Elope, elope, elope... to elope is to sneak away with someone. Maybe..._ Then her eyes flicker to the handkerchief, and she understands. _Miss Billa is out there, right now, and she's telling me to sneak away with her. That's it! It's a rescue!_

Lily could hardly control her excitement. After glancing around warily, she nudged Posco and whispered, "Miss Billa is here and she's planning a rescue."

He gaped at her, but then she showed him the message in her lap, and his eyes light up in excitement. He passes the message on, and Lily can hardly sit still. Her veins are thrumming with hope. Sure, there were a lot of Men out there, but she'd seen Miss Billa fight with a stick, and she'd seen her silence a room by simply raising an eyebrow. Miss Billa would take care of everything, she was sure. Soon, they would be going home!

* * *

Finally, at moonrise, the camp has settled down into sleep, and Billa gives the all-clear to Thorin.

She, Nori, Dwalin, Olvin and Angar sneak up towards the camp. Knowing how noisy dwarves are, she makes them walk in a single file behind her, stepping in her footprints. This way, she hears the leaves rustle beneath their boots, but at least they don't step on any twigs or branches. Once they reach the camp, she waits with Dwalin and the others while Nori throws his knives.

The guards crumple to the ground, knives in their throats, silently.

They wait for a moment, but no one stirs.

Billa creeps into the camp, leaving clear footprints for the dwarves to follow her. The children see her coming and start to get up, but she shakes her hand at them and makes a shushing gesture.

"This is a rescue," she breathes quietly as she enters the tent. "Without speaking, nod if you are able to walk." All six of them nodded, hope shining in their eyes.

"That's good," Billa said gently, still as silent as she could be. "How many of you need medical attention as soon as we reach safety?" she asked. All eyes looked to the elf, who hung its head. Billa couldn't tell the gender of the dwarves or the elf-child at this age. "That's fine," she said reassuringly. "We'll get you fixed up as soon as we can. Now, here's the plan. Three dwarves are going to sneak into this tent, and they are going to carry you out while the slavers sleep. As soon as they pick you up, close your eyes as tight as you can, and do not open them until I tell you. Do you understand?" she said, her voice intense. If a slaver woke up and saw them being carried away, Billa would have to silence them before they woke the entire camp, and she didn't want the children to see that.

"They will carry you for several minutes, and then they will put you down, and I will guide you to our camp, where we will take off your chains and treat your injuries, and get you something to eat, okay? Are there any questions?"

One of the dwarves gave her a hard stare. "How do we know that you aren't just another group of slavers?" it hissed suspiciously.

Billa smiled and gave the all-clear signal to the dwarves in the trees. Suspicion must be a dwarf thing. "One, because Lily here has known me all her life. Do you come from the Blue Mountains?" she asked. Eyes still narrowed, the dwarfling nodded. Billa grinned. "Two, because Thorin Oakenshield and Dwalin son of Fundin are two of the warriors who came with me to rescue you."

It was at this moment that Dwalin and the others started sneaking into the camp, and the dwarflings' eyes widened in recognition and then, excitement. "Shhh!" Billa reminded them.

Dwalin and the others entered the tent, and carefully, silently, picked up a child in each arm, trying to move the chains as little as possible. When everyone was settled, Billa told them to close their eyes. As soon as they did, Billa snuck out before them and stood watch while the dwarrow crept cautiously out of camp. Then Angar made a misstep and accidentally kicked a slaver in the foot. The dwarves immediately froze. The slaver opened his eyes groggily, and then saw the dwarves carrying the children. He immediately started to leap up to wake the others.

Billa's knife was in her hand and then in his throat before he'd finished sitting up. She carefully wiped her knife on his shirt as she looked around to see if any of the others had woken. For several moments, no one moved. The children's eyes were still clenched shut, which Billa was relieved to see. The dwarves stared at her, mixtures of surprise, wariness, relief and approval in their eyes. Billa herself had swallowed down her inner conflict the moment she saw the children in the tent. She had never killed a Man, before, but although these Men might look fairer than Orcs, their actions proved them to be just as foul and filthy, and it would be just to say that they were far more Orcish than Mannish. Billa was not a robber, or a murderer, come to kill innocent men in their sleep- no. Billa had come to protect _children_ and to protect _her dwarves_ ,and if she had to kill a Man and silence him to keep them safe, she would do so.

Finally, she gave a nod and the dwarves began to move out. They made it to the edge of the clearing without any more disturbances, and Billa took the lead, leading them on a silent path. . They made it back to the main attack force, Nori keeping watch over the camp, and then continued to walk, trekking back to where the rear-guard waited with the ponies.

When they were 10 minutes away from the main attack force and far enough away from the slaver camp that the jingling of their chains wouldn't matter, Billa let the children open their eyes as the dwarves put them down. "This way, little ones," she whispered. The elf, who was already a little taller than she was, smiled at that. The dwarves turned back, walking back to Thorin's main attack force as Billa and the captives continued on to the rearguard, where they'd left the ponies.

"This is the plan," Billa told them as they clanked and clattered after her. "We will reach the ponies and the three dwarves stationed there. Then, I will see if I can get them to cut the chains between you. We'll put you on the ponies and then all of us will go back towards the main camp of the dwarves. We will make sure everyone is all right, patch everyone up and feed them, and then either make camp or ride through the night back to Hobbiton, depending on what Thorin decides. Any questions?"

She was hoping that talking and telling them what to expect would help them feel a little more in control after such a frightening experience. Lily's face furrowed, and then crumpled a little.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" she asked in a very small voice.

Billa hmmed. "Well, you were playing very far out, where you knew there could be danger. That put you and your friend at risk. If the dwarves hadn't been here, you would have been taken far away and you never would have seen your home or your family ever again." Billa didn't believe in sugar-coating the facts unless it was absolutely necessary.

Lily hung her head and began to sniffle.

"On the other hand," Billa said, trying to be fair, "You did send your friend away to get help, which is the smart thing to do. And you stayed alive until we got here, which is the most important thing when it comes to waiting for rescue. Jenny came into the market, screaming that you'd been taken. Mister Thorin and Mister Dwalin mustered a force of dwarrow and we rode out to find you immediately." Lily smiled, pleased that she'd done the right thing. Then she made a face.

"Miss Billa," Lily said, "If they came to rescue me, why aren't we all leaving right now?" One of the little dwarves made a snort at her naivete.

"Lily," Billa tried to explain without traumatizing her. "The dwarves first have to make sure that the slavers never steal anyone ever again. Men like this, they would steal your little brothers and sisters and hurt them and beat them and starve them, and you would never see them again. Men like this need to be stopped. This is what Mister Dwalin does as a protector of the weak and defender of the innocent. Do you understand?"

Lily nodded. Then she whispered, "I don't want to be weak anymore. When they took me, I couldn't fight back or anything. They didn't listen, and they didn't care when they hurt me. They just laughed," she sniffled. "Is the world full of people like that, Miss Billa?" she sobbed. "Is that why no one ever leaves the Shire, because if they do, they won't come back?"

Billa patted her head gently as Lily mopped her eyes with her blood-stained handkerchief. "I left the Shire," she reminded the girl. "And I found Mister Dwalin and dwarves like him out there. When the teachers come from Ered Luin, you remember how it feels to be helpless and frightened, and you do your best in that class. Grow strong, and be fierce, and the next time someone tries to hurt you or someone else, you will be able to stop them, just like Mister Dwalin."

Lily sniffed a little. "Is that why you're learning from Mister Dwalin, Miss Billa?" she asked.

"Yes, Lily. During the Fell Winter, when you weren't even a teen, goblins came and killed my parents. I wasn't strong enough to stop them, but Mister Dwalin is teaching me now, and so is Thorin."

"Thorin Oakenshield is teaching _you_?" the talkative dwarf asked, incredulous. "I don't believe it!" it said angrily.

"Here," Billa said, stopping to show the dwarves the bead of the line of Durin glinting in the moonlight, marking her as part of the royal family. "Lady Dis and Prince Fili and Prince Kili claim me as their sister, and Thorin Oakenshield recognizes their claim." The children gaped at the bead, and Billa wondered absently if their eyes were going to pop out of their heads. She was becoming very fond of the way dwarves reacted to that bead! She explained a little more. "The dwarves of Ered Luin have forged an alliance with the hobbits of the Shire, and caravans of younglings and elderly dwarrow will be arriving soon to live here for the winter, at Thorin's request."

At this, the two dwarves shifted uncomfortably. "We were in one of those caravans," the other dwarf admitted in a much higher voice. _Ah, that was how you could tell their sex!_ Billa thought. _By the voices._

"Well," Billa said, "I am sure your family will be very relieved that we have recovered you safely. What are your names, if I may ask?"

"Lori, at your service," the female dwarfling said shyly.

"Hm," Billa said. "Are you by any chance related to Dori, Nori, or Ori?" she asked.

"Yes!" Lori said happily, "Those are my brothers."

"Well, Nori is actually here, on this rescue, and I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you are safe," Billa told her.

"Gimli, at your service," the other dwarfling said, and Billa grinned.

"What a coincidence," she said laughingly. "Are you, in fact, Gimli son of Gloin?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Aye, I am," he said gruffly.

"I met your Uncle Oin when in Bree. Is he or your father in the caravan also?" she asked.

"No, just my mother, Barsala," Gimli said, grumpily.

"Well, Gimli and Lori, I'm very pleased to meet you. What about you, _mellon?"_ she asked the elf child. Lori tripped with a yelp, tugging Gimli and the elf down with her.

"I am Lithir," the elf said quietly, as she and Gimli helped Lori back up.

"And where is your family, Lithir?" Billa asked. There weren't any nearby elf cities, as far as she knew.

"They... they are no more," Lithir said, subdued. "I am alone." Lori took Lithir's hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"I have three brothers," Lori told her. "That's enough to share, if you want one." Lithir smiled faintly at her, and Billa was surprised at the friendliness between them. She was even more surprised when Gimli didn't protest. _Perhaps being abducted and chained together is a good way to create inter-species unity,_ she thought wryly. _Unfortunately, if I tried that trick with Thranduil and Thorin, I don't think it would have quite the same ending._

"What about you, hobbit lads? I can't recognize you under all that dirt."

"Truly, Auntie Billa? You don't recognize us at all?" They said, drooping. Billa gasped and spun around to examine them.

"Drogo and Posco Baggins, my stars! What on earth were you doing that got you abducted by slavers, and covered in mud, no less?" She demanded, waving an accusatory finger at them.

"We heard Lily and Jenny were going to look for fairies, so we decided to look farther and harder to find one before they did," Drogo admitted bashfully. Billa snorted.

"You lads are in _extra_ trouble, and make no mistake!" Billa told them firmly.

Just then, the ponies came into sight, as well as the three dwarves guarding them, Bombur, Balfin and Dolin.

After introducing everyone, Billa convinced Balfin to use his ax and break the chains binding the children together. Then, they all mounted up and made their way back to Thorin's warriors. They made a funny sight, as Balfin and Dolin and Billa each had two passengers clinging to them. Bombur was rather too big to share a pony, so he rode alone, and guided the rest of the ponies.

This ride went much quicker with the ponies, and when they could see the distant firelight of the slaver camp through the trees, they could hear the noise of metal and dwarven war-cries.

"Bombur," she ordered quickly, "Stay here with Dolin to guard the children and the ponies. Balfin, with me."

She and Balfin dismounted and made their way quickly towards the camp. When they arrived, it was oddly silent, and Billa gasped to realize that one of the dwarves was being held hostage!

* * *

It had all been going splendidly for young Nolwin. He was fighting beside his king in a noble battle, and the war-cries and war-songs of his brothers-in-arms sung in his ears, rousing his blood.

Unfortunately, Nolwin had never faced a Man in battle before, or any battle at all. He'd been trained, like all dwarrow were, and could wield whatever implement was nearby, but he was young, and more inexperienced than he thought, and when he charged into a knot of 4 Men, swinging his ax with all his vigor, he was rather quickly outnumbered and outmatched. He managed to bring one Man down with a vicious swipe of his axe, but did so in a way that exposed his back to the others.

The leader of the bandits, a sly older Man who was more devious than brash decided that, instead of stabbing the young dwarf through the back, he'd take him hostage instead. Perhaps they could negotiate the dwarves' surrender- or perhaps it would simply give him enough time to cover his own retreat. It didn't matter- the reckless young dwarf would serve a purpose somehow.

When Nolwin was seized round the middle, he began to struggle, but then a sword was put to his throat, and he instinctively froze.

"Good lad," the sly old slaver said in a cold kind of voice. "Now, scream." He twisted Nolwin's arm brutally behind him, and Nolwin had no choice but to scream.

When Nolwin's savage scream cut through the air, the dwarves immediately took note, and slowed their assault. The slavers, rather the worse for wear, regrouped as much as they could but didn't yet dare to give up the fight. Victory could yet be obtained, they thought as they looked to their leader. He'd never let them down yet. Surely, he'd get them through this as well.

So it was when Billa and Balfin crept up to the battle, that they found one dwarf taken hostage and the other slavers standing between the dwarves and the young victim. The group of slavers holding the young dwarf hostage were to the rear of the slaver group, nearest to the edge of the clearing, and Billa and Balfin had come up _right behind them_.

Snorting to herself, _come rescue you indeed_ , Billa crept up behind the hostage-taker and took the stance Dwalin had taught her. She wound up and then released with all her strength, bashing him in the head with her stick as hard as she could. He crumpled, head misshapen, and the wounded dwarf wrenched himself away, scrambling through the slavers towards the other dwarves as quick as he could. The other dwarves immediately yelled and charged, taking immediate advantage of the sudden turn of fortune.

Balfin, who had been sneaking in with much the same plan as Billa, let his axe swing, taking down the second slaver, and Billa engaged the third in a vicious by-play of sword against staff. Unlike the thugs in Bree, this Man knew his way around a sword and he was willing to kill. Two months ago, she would have held on as long as she could until she was rescued. Unfortunately for the slaver, Billa had spent the last several weeks fending off daily attacks from Dwalin, one of the fiercest warriors alive. Though the height was different, Dwalin was far stronger than this Man, and Billa was able to weather his attacks - first with desperation, and then with growing confidence.

Beyond her personal fight, the dwarves had rejoined the battle, and Billa's heart began to pound as no one came to her rescue. _I'm not the weak link,_ she thought, vicious and suddenly gleeful. _I am a capable and dangerous member of this team. I belong here!_ With that thought buoying her up, it was easy to find an opening. She swiped the Man's legs out from under him and bludgeoned him in the head as he fell. It was only afterwards that she realized that she was wearing a vicious, snarling grin as her body thrummed with elation and adrenaline. Had this been her first battle, she might have felt terribly guilty at her adrenaline-fueled elation, but she had seen the same feral smile on her dwarves' faces in battle. It was not wrong to celebrate the victory over such a foe as this.

She surveyed the scene, looking for the next opponent. Unfortunately, it seemed the dwarves had finished up, and no slavers were left standing. Several dwarves were clutching wounds, but Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin stood unscathed, as far as she could tell.

The tent walls had been spattered with blood, and she remembered the way Beorn had mounted goblin heads and warg hides around his property, as a warning against them. She swallowed down her disgust, and reminded herself that the slavers would come again and again unless a strong message was sent. This couldn't be the only slaving party operating across Eriador and the Forodwaith, after all.

Grimly, as the others checked over themselves, she hunted through the carnage until she found a loose head and an intact slaver spear.

"Thorin," she called, as she brought her gruesome prizes over to the tent. He joined her, eyeing the head she carried by the hair with curiosity and a hint of caution. "Thorin, can you thrust this spear into the ground? There will be other slavers, and if they come across this camp, I want to leave a message," she said firmly. He did as she asked, and the spear stood tall and firm. Nodding to herself, she lifted the head over the spear and steeled herself. _This is going to be disgusting_ , she thought. Then she forced the head onto the spear. Thorin stared, impressed. _This is so gross_ , she mentally whimpered.

She swallowed down her bile, and went to the tent. The tent had a rough, gang emblem emblazoned on the side. It was splattered all over with gore from the fight, and Billa drew her knife. She carved into the fabric walls of the tent seven Westron letters, as large as she could make them.

S,L,A,V,E,R,S, it read when she was done. She backed away from her work.

The blood-spattered tent sported a gang emblem and her letters, and in front of it stood the head on a spear. That, combined with the bodies that the dwarves were now searching through for valuables would leave a clear message that slavers were no longer welcome in this part of the world, and these people were no longer defenseless.

Satisfied, Billa and the dwarves made their way back to the ponies, where Bombur had set up a fire and unpacked her rations. He had made a soup from her supplies, and everyone was digging in hungrily. She led Nori over to Lori, and who embraced him tightly, and then Lori set to introducing him to Lither and the others while he picked the locks on their manacles.

The dwarves and the children ate as Billa walked among them, distributing medical supplies, applying ointments and bandaging wounds. Then, after collecting her share of food, she made her way over to Thorin, Dwalin and Balin, sitting between them to eat while they decided the next course of action.

"The caravans need to know that we've found the children," Thorin said. "We should ride back tonight at full speed, get the children settled, and send a rider to the caravans." Billa nodded in agreement.

"Whatever we do," she said, "We need to make sure we've cleaned the blood off before anyone in the Shire sees us. A triumphant entry with the children into the morning market would not go amiss," she mused.

Thorin snorted fondly, and patted her thigh. "If only all hobbits were as fierce as you, Billa Baggins. We'll ride into the work site, then, and send a rider to the caravan immediately. The rest of us will wash and sleep, and then ride into the market in full battle gear with the children tomorrow," he said.

All agreed, they issued orders and broke camp. Each of the children rode with a warrior, and the elf rode with Billa.

An hour after midnight, they made it into the dwarf campsite by the smials. Thorin woke the dwarves who had stayed behind, sending one of them off with two ponies and strict instructions to ride until he found the caravan. The rest of them were set to washing gear and cleaning weapons until they shone, while the children and all those in the war party bedded down to sleep.

The children snuggled together, with Nori on one side and Dwalin on the other, and Billa smiled at the sight. She looked for her own place, and Thorin caught her eye, nodding at the spot between him and Balin. She grinned, pleased. On the road, it was common to sleep only with those you trusted nearby, and this gesture from Thorin proved how much things had changed between them. No longer was she the outcast or the burden who had no place among them. Now, she had Thorin's respect and his friendship, and she relished it.

She made her way over and stretched out next to the dwarf who had swiftly become her dearest friend. He draped his fur coat over them both, pulling her closer until her head was pillowed on his arm. She scooted back, pressing her back into his chest, enjoying the warmth and security that came with his nearness. There were no nightmares or painful memories here, only peace, trust, and a burgeoning sense of elation every time he was near. _Yes,_ she thought, _this is what I have been fighting for. This is what it feels like to belong, to have a family... to have a home. This is my Erebor._


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 32

When Lori first introduced him to the elf, Nori decided to focus on picking the locks first and reminding his little sister about appropriate friendships later. Then, Lori told him that the elf had given Lori her share of food, and had protected her from the displeasure of their captors whenever they tried to escape. He eyed the elf then, noting the bruises on its cheeks and the blood on her clothes. He glanced between the two girls then, noting how his sister was completely unharmed in comparison. Between the two, the elf was definitely the worse for wear.

He might not trust the creature half as far as he could throw it (and Nori was sure he could throw it pretty far), but he was an honorable dwarf in his own way, no matter what others might assume, and since a debt had been incurred, he would pay it. Afterwards, he'd ask Billa to get rid of the elf before Lori got any more attached. Sure, she'd just been through a traumatizing experience, but that was no reason to lose her head. Nori was sure he would feel a lot better about the entire situation if Lori would _just stop holding its hand!_

He sighed, and the last of the elf's manacles finally came off. Keeping a wary eye on the elfling that was trying to corrupt his sister, he moved to the other dwarfling, Gimli. Like Lori, he was sitting much closer to the elfling than was strictly necessary, even casting it concerned looks that the scowl on his still-beardless face couldn't quite disguise. Nori was perhaps rougher with his manacles than he needed to be, but really, who could blame him? The whole thing was simply intolerable.

The hobbits were next, but they thankfully were ignoring the others completely as they huddled together, exhausted but relieved. Their restraints were taken care of fairly quickly, and then Nori was back to thinking about Lori and the elf.

He griped to himself, even as he took medical supplies from Billa and had to- had to-. He didn't even want to think about it.

Even when the elf was finally bandaged, Lori wouldn't leave its side.

"Nori," she said solemnly, "Lithir doesn't have a mother or a father anymore, just like us. But, she doesn't have any brothers or sisters, either, and that's not fair. I told her she could share you and Dori and Ori with me, and we would take care of her."

Nori felt his right eye twitching, and repressed the urge to scream. This was not supposed to happen at all! Ugh, Why hadn't Dori kept a better eye on Lori? All of this was Dori's fault, Nori was sure. First, he'd probably mother-henned Lori until she wanted nothing more than to sneak away, and then, his mother-henning must have slipped for long enough that Lori had actually made her escape. It was all Dori's fault. Soon, she'd be wanting to swear off meat and climb trees and use a bow and do all sorts of freakish elfy things, and it could all be traced back to Dori!

"Nori?" Lori said, breaking through his thoughts. With a sigh, Nori cast about for something non-committal to say.

"Let's get you on a pony," he settled on finally. "It's a long ride back."

Despite his best efforts, Lori spent the ride chattering to or about the elf, even as she clung to him. Even when they arrived at camp, it didn't stop. He lay down, and Lori and _it_ snuggled together against one side, while Gimli slept next to the other.

"Goodnight, Lithir. Goodnight, Nori," Lori said.

"Goodnight Lori, goodnight, Mister Nori, goodnight, Gimli," the creature said in that high, musical voice. Nori cringed. It was disgusting.

Nori didn't fall asleep for a very, very long time.

* * *

Balin spent the night re-evaluating his opinion of the hobbit once again.

She was a tough thing, more ruthless than he'd thought she'd be. In the Shire, she had very much retained her hobbit sensibilities, observing the niceties and playing the hostess to the King and his retinue. She seemed dainty and delicate, like all the halflings.

Out here, though, she seemed to shed those sensibilities like a second skin, acting more like a dwarrow queen than a hobbit princess. She'd carved up the rabbit like an expert, easily dispensing the offal and swallowing her own portion with nary a flinch. He'd seen hobbits faint at the sight of a _nosebleed_ , and she was able to swallow down raw meat without flickering an eye?

Then, she'd been absolutely ruthless in her suggestions for the battle. Balin had thought at first that she was just talk, but then Dwalin had told him how she'd slit the throat of a slaver in the camp to ensure their safe escape. It wasn't just tough talk from this female, oh no. She was prepared to back up her ideals with action.

Dwalin had only been training her for weeks, less than two months. For her to go from inexperienced damsel to cold-blooded killer was... off-putting, to say the least. She'd not puked after the battle, either, like every fighter did after the first time they'd spilled blood. She'd been a little nauseous, but only after putting a man's head on a spear like some gruesome trophy. That was hardly hobbit-behavior, either.

No matter what she said, Balin was convinced that this was not the first time she'd killed. According to Dwalin, she'd never even had a real fight before, and yet supposedly, she's able to _kill_ a near-defenseless man without a single hesitation? She had witnessed her parents killed, though. Perhaps she had seen what hesitation could do in a fight? Or maybe halflings were not nearly so innocent as they appeared.

She'd appeared so suddenly. She appears mysteriously to rescue the prince from a gang, willing to risk her life for a total stranger. The very next day, Kili and Fili both seemed to be wrapped around her finger, and Thorin and Dis soon followed. It was unsettling how quickly they had accepted her. Only a few weeks later, agreements and alliances are being forged to impact their entire wandering nation.

Balin liked the hobbit. Usually, he and Dwalin never liked the same people, Thorin being the exception who was tugged between them. Balin was a diplomat who preferred negotiation and had seen enough bloodshed so as to want to avoid it when possible. Dwalin was a blood-thirsty warrior who decided to fight now and ask questions later. Or never. That Billa was well-liked by every dwarf she met, right away, seemed impossible. She had a gift of seeming so genuinely fond of people, even though they had just met. If it was an act, it was a very, very good one.

Thorin's eyes seemed to follow her everywhere. At this very moment, his King was curled around her, sharing his fur mantle, and letting her use his body as both pillow and blanket. He could be holding a serpent to his breast for all Balin knew, and Balin was very afraid of what would happen to his people if Billa turned out to be treacherous.

And yet, she'd been genuinely concerned for Thorin. After the fight, her eyes had searched and searched until they settled on Thorin, and that's where they stayed. He was the first person she looked to when entering a room, and she smiled each time she saw him. If Balin wasn't so suspicious, he would think that she returned Thorin's feelings, but Balin didn't know how to reconcile that notion with the disparities in her. Either she was hiding something, or she had somehow naturally become the most perfect dwarrow queen Balin could imagine.

Maybe he was being paranoid. Even as he watched and worried, they were both smiling in their sleep, Billa tucked neatly into Thorin's side, her hands tangled around one of his arms. If not for his worries, it would be one of the sweetest pictures he had ever seen.

But his doubts swarmed inside his head like bats, and as the night gave way to dawn, Balin waited, and he wondered, and he watched.

* * *

Dwalin was resting on his back, with his arms outstretched. Three hobbits clustered around him, pressing close for comfort and reassurance. They were sleeping, now, but Dwalin wasn't.

Dwalin had been made very aware of just how unprepared and innocent the hobbits were. If Lily hadn't managed to send Jenny away, they would never have found out what happened, and he would never have seen any of these little friends ever again. Dwalin's heart clenched at the thought.

He knew what happened to slaves. He'd seen them before, cowering and beaten, with dull eyes and hollow cheeks. To think of that fate for these bright-eyed, cheerful and friendly children was unbearable! He had to do something. This couldn't be allowed to happen again.

He knew there would be teachers arriving in a week or two to train them up, but Dwalin didn't know if that was enough. Hobbits were so tiny! How they ever be strong enough to hold their own? Forget fighting fair. He resolved to make sure they were taught every dirty trick in the book. He'd drill them himself until they were faster and hardier than any Man could hope to be.

He spent hours thinking over weapons and training regimens, trying to work out the system that would give them the best chance of survival against a force like Lily had faced. Dwalin knew he wouldn't be around forever, but he swore to himself that he'd make sure they were able to protect themselves before he left.

* * *

In his study, Isumbras paced. He'd received word of Billa and her dwarves riding out to save a lass from slavers, and he was worried.

If it had been any other group, he would have been making funeral arrangements by now and sending out his condolences. As it was, he kept reminding himself that Billa Baggins had more Took in her than anyone, including himself, had suspected, and not to underestimate her now.

Besides, she'd taken a company of dwarves with her. If anyone could survive this encounter, she could.

She'd changed, that was for sure.

Before she'd invited him to tea, he had almost forgotten what she looked like, he hadn't seen her in so long. She had been a quiet, polite little thing in her youth, always curious and clever, but never so bold or brash as this. Now, she stood strong and tall, and she radiated confidence like Oakenshield exuded majesty. Her dress, her hair, her walking stick all made her even more of a curiosity. What stood out most to Isumbras was the way she carried herself. As the Thain, and as a Took, he had seen warriors before. They walked with a predatory grace that could not be mimicked, and a certainty that could not be faked. Billa carried her walking stick with that same grace and certainty. Isumbras knew that it wasn't just a pretty embellishment. It had been made into a weapon, and one that she _knew_ how to use.

Since her trip to Bree, Isumbras had been in turns delighted and terrified by the changes. She was taking control of business in the Shire, moving around her vast Baggins wealth with a sly, skillful hand that he'd never seen in her before. Suddenly, the rumor mills were churning at full-speed, spilling tales of her rescue by Mister Dwalin, which story Isumbras knew for certain was false. She had actually convinced the hobbits to not only tolerate, but actually welcome these hulking, warlike outsiders. Somehow, she was changing the opinions of the Shire with all the skill of a veteran gossiping gammer.

Isumbras's own mother had been like this, exerting her own will over the Shire with a careful, devious hand that few could see. In his grandmother's day, women had been lesser citizens, unable to own property or run their own business. His mother had woven a careful web of intrigue and changed those laws, and the ideas that had spawned them, for good. When her husband died, she took over as Thain until she died at 114 and passed the title onto Isumbras.

The same daring and cunning that his mother and, to some extent, his sister had displayed was practically dripping from Billa. Tooks had a way of being wild in their youth, but growing sly and wily with age, and it seemed as if Billa had developed the most powerful Took traits in her 12 years of self-imposed isolation.

It was a pity, he thought, that he couldn't name her his heir. He couldn't, not with the way she was eyeing that Oakenshield dwarf. He was becoming more certain every day that her children would, in fact, inherit a Kingdom instead of a Shire. If he was proved wrong, he'd snap up the opportunity as soon as he could, but he'd seen that look before. He'd seen that look in Belladonna's eyes when she'd looked at Bungo. Billa's eyes held that look now.

That dwarf had better make sure she came back alive, or Isumbras would make life very, very difficult for him. He'd lost Belladonna. He truly hoped he didn't lose her daughter, too.

Hours passed, and Isumbras kept pacing.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Someone mentioned that Thorin is out of character and super fluffy in this chapter. Hullo, he's falling in love. Have you heard of twitter-pation, or infatuation? Think Bambi in the spring. When you're infatuated, you are completely focused on one person, and they seem to be absolutely perfect. Every character trait they exhibit is perfectly made to match yours. Everything they do is well done, and in perfect taste. Any fault you see is easily made endearing or explained away under extenuating circumstances. You reminisce for hours about them, and every thought makes you smile.

On the outside, the only change is that Thorin is more smiley and generally less acerbic. Since this is his point of view, you get to find out what he thinks. Because this is after a victorious battle, he's a little more relaxed. Because of Billa, he doesn't have to worry about starvation or freezing to death this winter. He's not worrying about assassination or survival. His life is really looking up, and all he's doing is focusing on his feelings for Billa (who made this possible), and how wonderful she makes him feel. He is _literally_ high on endorphins, right now. Don't believe me? Fall in love and then let's talk. It makes you _crazy_.

Flustration: According to Miriam Webster's, it is the state of being flustered.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 33

Thorin woke the next morning to a sweet scent and something tickling his nose. He breathed deeply to identify the scent. _Ah, that's right,_ he thought. _Billa's here_. He squeezed his arms lightly and indeed, there she was. Thorin smiled. _I am becoming more and more certain_ , he thought _, that this is how I want to wake up for the rest of my life._

She was perfect, really. For all that she was a hobbit, she could not be a more perfect dwarrow queen if she tried. She was fierce, dangerous, clever, ruthless, brave, and so loyal. Yet, her hobbit-ness only added to her perfection where some dwarrow might think it a detraction. She was kind, gentle, compassionate, protective, and cunning. Nothing could compare to the flush of adoration that Thorin felt when she used those traits on his behalf, or on the behalf of his people. Seeing the bead of Durin flashing in her hair while she sparred, or how it lay authoritatively on her breast as she issued commands or courted good opinion in her pretty little drawing room.

Thorin knew he was falling in love with her, and that if it went on much longer, he wouldn't be able to turn back. If it was just for himself, he would not hold back at all, but he had Dis and Fili and Kili to consider. How would Billa and future heirs affect them? Would his council be able to accept her? He would have to leave her this winter, and spent the cold months considering it.

Until then, he contented himself by imagining other braids in her hair, courting braids and claiming braids. Her curls would slip through his fingers, tangling around his touch and holding onto his fingers. _They smell so sweet,_ he thought, breathing in deeply.

He remembered the ride as they hunted the slavers. Most people either chattered nervously or rode in grim silence. Billa had been calm and logical as she approached him, only talking as much as was necessary. Even in such a dire circumstance, her first concern was his comfort and that of his warriors. She'd come admirably prepared despite the short notice, and he appreciated that she didn't try to fill the silence with small talk like some others might have.

Then, she'd ridden up with a skinned rabbit in her lap, offering him obeisance. Whether it was due to his position or her personal preference, it always pleased him when she put him first, above all others. He'd been so pleased with her deference and her obvious effort to learn the ways of his people that he'd offered her his share. She had blushed gratefully, and sweetly refused him. Then she'd offered him his portion with no hesitation at all. She was a little slow, but that was to be expected for someone who was fairly new to this. Her motions were confident and steady, obviously practiced, and he knew she'd only improve with time.

Finally, despite all his doubts to the contrary, she had actually swallowed down a liver, chewing delicately and then daintily washing her hands and mouth. Thorin just watched, enjoying the juxtaposition of her iron-hard stomach and her gentle manners. Wasn't his hobbit absolutely unique?

Then, he had put her to the test as a scout. But oh! The way she had blushed when he'd whispered in her ear. He'd never seen a blush so vibrant or so widespread. Her ears, her cheeks, even her neck and her chest were blushing red and she'd gazed at him, wide-eyed and breathless, gasping slightly. She'd been almost speechless, and her explanation was as adorable as it was garbled. Apparently, hobbit ears were sensitive. _Really_ sensitive.

Still, despite her flustration, she'd done an admirable job scouting forward. Bifur signed that she hadn't made a single sound on the entire journey, her feet as silent as she had promised him. She'd been able to scout the enemy camp multiple times and get detailed information without being seen or heard, and Thorin was impressed. Once again, his hobbit had proved her worth.

Her ruthlessness in regards to the slavers had been unexpected, but appealing. She had been just as fierce in defense of Kili in Bree, he remembered fondly. And then, her concern for his wellbeing had been utterly adorable. Her eyes blazing, her voice a quiet hiss, she had threatened him with poor hospitality - of all things!- if he dared to get injured. She'd shoved him with all of her meager strength, glaring fiercely at him. Like a tiny, menacing kitten, she'd warned him to come back, or else. This more than anything reassured Thorin that his feelings were returned, and he savored that assurance as it glowed warmly in his chest.

The battle had been fun, a much-needed release for his dwarves and it had been going well. Thorin had been content to stretch it out, avoiding killing moves and simply enjoying the exertion and the adrenaline. Then, one of his younger warriors had been cornered by three Men and, with a knife to his throat, they were ordered to surrender.

Before the embarrassing situation could get out of hand, Billa was there, seizing the opportunity to take them down from behind. Again, in defense of his people, not her own. He'd watched her with one eye while she fought another, seeing how she grew in confidence and even began to smile before bringing the slaver down. Yes, his hobbit had a large measure of dwarven ferocity, and he was grateful for it.

She'd left a brutal message as well for any slavers who might come looking, and after leaving the menacing display, she had immediately focused on tending to the injured.

Then, she'd come to him and her shrewd mind had advised him on a strategy to improve their standing in the Shire. He loved how that was something always on her mind, ensuring that he and his people would always be made welcome. He sighed happily.

After a long ride and a short night, here she was in his arms, warm, sweet-smelling, and content. Thorin sighed again. He was infatuated, he knew, and if he wasn't so happy, it would be embarrassing. As it was, he was _very_ happy, and the feeling was so foreign that he couldn't help but bask in it. He nuzzled her hair gently, trying not to wake her.

He'd leave for the winter, and see if the attraction and alliance lasted across the distance. For now, he'd enjoy the sensation of holding her, and imagine that they could stay like this forever.


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

In my head, Billa is actually quite shy. She takes a long time to warm up to people, but once she likes them, they are hers forever. In this fic, we don't have to deal with her slowly thawing to the dwarves, because she already knows and loves them. If it had been some other dwarf in that forge, she would have turned away and kept looking instead of starting up a conversation. If it had been some other person set upon by Men in Bree, Billa would have wanted to help, but I don't know that she would have risked herself. We see her at her best because she is totally in her element: in the Shire, well-trained and well-connected, in her prime and with future knowledge of people and events. The game is rigged in her favor, and she is doing her best to make sure it stays that way.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 34

The market was quiet and subdued in the early light of the morning. Not just one, but _three_ hobbits had been taken. Most people didn't say a word as they went about buying what they needed for the day. Most of them were only here to wait for news, anyway.

If if had been any other party that had ridden out after the stolen hobbits, there would have been tears and condolences and more wailing. None of those parties ever returned, after all. But this time, it wasn't just hobbits that had ridden out after them. It had been a war-party of dwarves. Mister Dwalin's axes had been bright, glinting angrily as he rode through the market. The warriors had been fitted with chainmail, carrying weapons and hard expressions. Miss Billa had ridden with them, a sword on her hip and her staff in her hands.

If it had been any other party, they would never have dared to hope. Since it was _this_ party, they couldn't help but hope- hope for their safe return, hope for an end to the raids, and hope for their children to come home. The hope was painful, but they milled around the market, waiting anxiously and trading mindlessly for tomatoes and potatoes, not daring to speak as they waited.

And waited.

Then, there was a rumbling in the distance, and they stopped, cocking their heads and angling their ears to listen. It grew louder and louder into the sound of ponies' hooves.

Then, they came into view. Armor glinting, weapons shining bright, and at the front of the fearsome column, each dwarf carried a child before them. There was an elf, and some dwarves, and ... there! Three hobbit children!

The hope exploded into reality, and the market exploded into shouts and cheers and laughter and relieved, exhausted tears. The anxious mothers rushed towards them, and the dwarves carefully handed the hobbit children down.

The hobbits pressed around the dwarves, who were hard-pressed to keep the ponies calm. They were hung with flowers chains and bunches, as the hobbits sang and danced around them, overjoyed.

Then someone shouted, "To the Party Tree!"

In a flurry, the ponies were led to the field and runners were sent out to spread the news and call for food. A fiddle starts playing, and soon other instruments join in, and the dwarves and Billa are tugged off their ponies and pulled to the dance floor. Dwalin and Thorin, having learned these dances from Billa, do particularly well to the hobbits' delight. The other dwarves watch and quickly start to pick up the basics. Lithir, Lori and Gimli watch from the sidelines, bewildered but giggling at the spectacle.

Billa, laughing, is twirled from hobbit to dwarf and back again, teaching dwarves the steps and impressing the hobbits with her footwork and stamina.

Dwalin is in extremely high demand and when two lasses quarrel about who gets to dance with him, he resorts to dancing with _both_ of them, at the same time. To the crowd's delight, he does it without a single misstep, and when the lasses are done, two more take their place, giggling at the novelty.

Thorin, Billa sees gleefully, is also in demand, and is swarmed with partners once they see how well he can dance. She laughs at his plight and refuses to come to his rescue, no matter how pleadingly he looks at her. She dances for a few minutes with Bombur, and once he gets the hang of the steps, she hands him off to a stately hobbit matron, and dances her way over to Olvin and Bolin, carefully demonstrating the dance with each of them, too.

Bifur sits on the edge with a small horde of children around him, weaving flower crowns and nibbling on the blooms they brought him by the handful. Already, three flower crowns hung around the axe in his forehead, and as Billa watched, he bent down so a little fauntling could put another one on his head.

* * *

Dwarves from the encampment come up, hearing of the party, and Bofur watches his cousin, surrounded by children, and his brother, dancing eagerly in the throng, with soft eyes and a tiny smile. Then Billa comes over and drags him onto the dancing platform, teaching him the steps patiently and cheerfully. Once he has the dance fairly learned, she spins away and then a giggling hobbit female is in his arms, spinning enthusiastically with him.

It was only a month ago that he was hungry and cold, on the road to a dubious new assignment, worrying if Bifur would survive this town or if the inevitable disgust and rejection would drive him to dangerous self-injury again. Two months ago, he'd been scrounging in Ered Luin's slowly-failing mines while Bombur struggled to find work and Bifur carved moodily with downcast eyes.

The past month had been a dream, it seemed. The hobbit princess had been kind to Bifur, with nary a glance of fear or distaste in her eyes. That made Bofur suspicious, because people were only that kind when they wanted something and they thought he could be taken advantage of. She'd lured in Bombur, too, sharing recipes and helping with dinner. Bofur had remained on his guard, waiting for her to spring the trap and reveal her game.

Only, so much time had passed and there was no deception. She'd been down to the work-site almost every day, with kind words and encouraging smiles, bearing food and often leading a trail of curious younglings after her. She would help Bombur for dinner, and then take her seat next to Bifur, and the children would watch with wide eyes as she wove flower chains, and showed him how to weave them, too.

After a few days, the children were sitting next to Bifur of their own volition, chattering absently to him as they wove. A few were particularly brave, and they would sit on his lap and examine his hands, or explore his face, touching his nose and ears and beard with curious, suspicious fingers, and then gently, they'd touch his forehead and ask if it hurt. When Bifur would nod, their eyes would sometimes fill with tears for him, and they would curl into his neck and cry on his beard and tell him they were sorry it hurt. Bifur would gently hold them until they stopped, a gentle smile of disbelief on his face as he relished their nearness. Some of them would kiss it better, putting their tiny lips on his forehead or even on the axe, and asking if that felt better. When Bifur nodded, they would smile gleefully, pleased with themselves, and make themselves comfortable on his lap to play with more flowers.

After a few days of this, Bifur was practically glowing. Never before had he been so welcomed. Bifur had always wanted children, but after Azanulbizar, no one would have him, and when he spiraled into depression, people started to fear him and shoo their children away from him. Bofur was certain that Bifur would stay here for the rest of his life, as long as the little hobbit fauntlings smiled and giggled at the sight of him, and argued over who got to sit nearest him.

Bofur had never seen Bifur so happy. Bombur, a food-loving chef in a land filled with food-lovers, was also gleeful. His girth no longer a source of mockery, he was now a figure of admiration, and Bofur watched as Bombur left the dance floor, huffing and puffing, smiling with ruddy cheeks, to sit with a score of middle-aged hobbits at a table full of food. Everyone at the table had a large belly, and his was admired and commented on, even patted with envious looks at times.

Bofur was sure that his brother, who had long eaten food in search of comfort and belonging, would actually lose weight as he finally found the acceptance he had craved.

As for Bofur, he winked at the third lass in his arms, a stout, middle-aged matron with smiling eyes, and grinned as she laughed at him. They spun cheerfully around the platform together, and Bofur thought that he hadn't been nearly so content for as long as he could remember.

* * *

After dancing for an hour or two, Dwalin strides purposefully from the dance floor, and a flock of ladies trails him curiously. He walks until they are some way from the dance floor and the music is not so loud.

"My dear friends," he begins, looking solemn, "Lily, Posco, and Drogo were taken because they did not know how to get away from those who meant them harm. Even though they were within the Shire's borders and not at all alone, this did not protect them. In my long experience, I have learned the quickest and surest ways that a body can use in order to drive off an attacker, and I offer my services to you, to teach you. In a week or so, my kin will arrive and I must leave you. They will be able to take up where I leave off, for those who are interested in the lessons. However, it would ease my heart if I could teach all of you some of what I know, and therefore I will be offering lessons, free of charge, beginning today in this field, and continuing until I leave at Bag End, after afternoon tea," he said.

There was a clamor, and a swell of whispers. Hobbits looked to their friends, considering. This had never been done before, and certainly wasn't _the thing._ However, never had a party ridden out and rescued an abducted hobbit, let alone three. Whispers turned to determined looks, and then to nods. One by one, hobbits started to step forward, determined to learn while they could. Lily was at the very front, Posco and Drogo flanking her.

Dwalin watched, seeing the resolve in their eyes. He smiled, and then began to explain the humanoid body, and which parts hurt the most when you hit them. With wide eyes, the hobbits listened and learned.


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. The elves on board attack the monster in retaliation, and it escapes by swimming into the past: several decades into the past. Billa wakes up in a sweat, gasping and frightened, only to realize that she is back in her thirty-three-year old body. What on earth is she going to do?_

* * *

Chapter 35

Bifur and Bofur walked from the camp-site to the smials, enjoying the early morning bird-calls and the rays of rising sunlight through the trees. Their boots glistened wetly as they brushed through dewy grass. Every so often, Bifur would bend to pluck a flower and swirl it between his fingers or nibble gently on it. He was humming absently as he walked, his head held high and his gait sure.

Bofur watched him from the corner of his eye. He had not seen his cousin walk this way since they were children. He walked as if he was proud of who he was, as if he was a valuable and important member of the community. Even in Ered Luin, amongst dwarves, Bifur had walked with a stoop, drooping his head despairingly as if to hide the ax he unwillingly carried.

Bofur imagined taking his cousin back to Ered Luin, where children stared and shied away at the sight of him, where mothers glared and dragged their children away from him, where women averted their eyes instead of striking up a conversation and asking him to look after their young. Bofur imagined the glow in Bifur's eyes dimming, his happy posture wilting, and his carefree humming going silent.

He knew it would cripple Bifur a second time to give this life in the Shire up. He just didn't know what he could do to change it.

Finally, they arrived at the smials for one last review of the premises. While unusual and far different from their angular, high-ceilinged and painstakingly-carved halls, the smials were finally finished, and they were oddly appealing despite their hobbity look. Bifur and Bofur let themselves in through the round doors and began to look around.

Some of the bedrooms had survived the mudslide and remained wood. The kitchen, dining and living and drawing rooms, pantries, washrooms, and additional bedrooms had all had to be cleared out and then rebuilt, this time with stone. They had enlarged them, building far deeper into the hills and shoring up every room and hallway in case of future slides. Each smial was now larger and deeper than even Bag End. And what's more, no flimsy hobbit walls were these. This was built with dwarven stone-know, and would last for centuries.

Some rooms were only big enough for one occupant, and some others had been converted into family suites. Also available were rooms set up like a barracks with a row of bunk-beds. Each smial had six of the family suites, twelve individual rooms and two barracks rooms. It was hoped that only two smials would be needed to house the coming caravans, and that they could expand into the third as necessary in the coming decades.

Bifur and Bofur tapped and struck all the walls and the supports, feeling for flaws and checking for quality. It took several hours to check every stone of every room of each smial, and as they checked, Bifur hummed and Bofur thought.

It was when they were walking up to Bag End to make the final report to Thorin and Lady Billa that Bofur finally had a thought.

 _Didn't I hear that Balin was giving the lady history lessons and Dwalin was giving the lass fighting lessons to pay for their stay there? Bifur only has the money that we were paid for this job, and I don't know how long that would last when paying rent. Perhaps Lady Billa would be willing to work something out? I don't know what, if anything, Bifur could teach that she would want to learn, and the language barrier... well... Never mind._ Bofur's shoulders sagged and he went back to thinking.

Bifur never stopped humming, waving to hobbits passing by, (mostly children) and smiling. Several little fauntlings came up to hug his knees, and Bifur would sweep them up into a hug, whirl around with them, and they set them gently down, holding them til the world stopped spinning. They would grin at him, and he would pat their head and point to Bofur. The little fauntlings, guessing that he had to go, would scamper back to their mothers crying, "Goodbye Mister Bifur!" and waving at him, and Bifur would smile and wave back.

Finally, they reached Bag End and stood at the door to knock. Dwalin opened the door and stared at them for a moment with his vigilant, threat-assessing Captain of the Guard stare, and then glanced at their boots and turned away from the door, leaving it open.

Obediently, they stripped off their boots and closed the door, following him on socked feet. This was the first time they'd been inside Bag End, and Bofur stared discretely. There had been a line of boots outside the door, and inside was a line of cloaks and hoods on the wall. They passed a drawing room, filled with dainty furniture and sun-bright windows. They passed by the dining room, where Balin sat and two dwarflings chattered happily while sharing a meal with an under-grown elfling. _An elf!_ Bofur thought distastefully. _No, it would be impossible for Bifur to stay here indeed. He needs no scorn from a gangly, traitorous bow-shooter._

They passed into a hallway and then, several doors down, into a study. It was large and airy, with two desks and the windows thrown wide open, along with a shaft in the ceiling to gather the sunlight. One of the desks had documents in Khuzdul on it, but Thorin and Lady Billa were clustered around the other desk, and that is where Dwalin took them.

"Sit," Thorin commanded them lightly, and they sat in front of the desk. Lady Billa made to get up, but Thorin put a hand on her arm and nodded at Dwalin. Dwalin seemed to grit his teeth but went without hesitation, returning a moment later with a platter of sandwiches and a flagon of ale. Bofur was staggered. _They'd just been served sandwiches... by the Captain of the Guard?_ And it looked as if it had been Lady Billa who was intending to serve them first. How bizarre.

Bifur, however, didn't seem at all confused, and took a sandwich and a mug with a happy noise, and tucked right in. Lady Billa beamed at him, while Thorin turned his attention to Bofur and began to inquire after the smials. Bofur made his report and declared the smials to be free of fault. Thorin nodded and would have dismissed them, but Lady Billa spoke.

"Mister Bifur," she said, and Bofur was again surprised how she addressed a crippled dwarf who could never speak to her and yet she didn't seem to hesitate at all. "Do you have that accounting I asked you for?" And Bofur grimly darkened in anger. _Here it was,_ he thought, _the trap that proved her false. She's going to charge us for camping on her land, or breaking some made-up law, and take back all the gold she's paid us._ He readied, fists clenching but trying not to make a move. Thorin would take care of it, or he wasn't the king.

But, Thorin wasn't doing anything except gaze at her with a half-exasperated and half-fond smile on his face as Billa reviewed Bifur's page of numbers. Lady Billa reviewed it quickly, and then pulled out a drawer and withdrew four sacks of gold.

"Thank you Mister Bifur," she said as she handed them the gold and put the list in one of her files, "For making that list and allowing me to pay for it. I know it's not exactly done that way in Dwarven culture, but here in the Shire I would be very poorly thought of if my guests actually had to pay for their own food and supplies, or if I sent them away unprepared for the journey."

Bofur stared, nonplussed, at the two gold bags in his hands. Bifur had already pocketed his and, smiling, was working on his sixth sandwich. _But,_ Bofur thought, _the trap..._ If there was a trap, he couldn't see it. She had just paid for all of the supplies that Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur had spent all of yesterday at the markets acquiring. It had cost nearly half of the gold they had made from working on the smials to get all the tents, blankets, and rations they'd require, but everything they bought was of quality and would last for years, so they got it. There had been new clothing on that list as well, thicker and more serviceable for the coming winter months. It had pained Bofur to part with the gold, but it had been necessary.

And yet here she was, returning all of the gold that they had spent yesterday, and sending them away richer than before. _If this is how things are done in the Shire,_ Bofur suddenly vowed, _I will make sure Bifur has a home here for as long as he wants it._

So, when Lady Billa asked if there was anything else that needed to be settled, Bofur took a leap of faith.

"Lady Billa," he said, bowing his head in respect as he made his request, "I would like for my cousin Bifur to stay here in the Shire." Bifur stared at him, eyes wide with hurt. Bofur made to explain. "He has always loved children and yet, no matter where we went, children were frightened of him and their parents were too. Even in Ered Luin, among our people, Bifur was shunned and something of an outcast. He was miserable, and it hurt just to see it," Bofur said, partly to Lady Billa, partly to Thorin, and partly to Bifur.

"But, here in the Shire, he's accepted and admired and appreciated. I would be a poor kinsman if I thought to abandon my cousin, but I'd be a poorer kinsman still to drag him away from where he's found happiness. Please, Lady Billa, Thorin Oakenshield, is there any way he can stay?" Bofur asked. He was a little afraid. Thorin could take it as an insult that a dwarf would rather be in the Shire than with his own kind. Lady Billa might be disappointed that she had been about to get rid of them. Bifur might be feeling abandoned... he turned his head slightly to check.

Bifur was staring at him with wide eyes and...was that a smile? Bifur blinked suddenly, wiping a tear away and looking down as if to pretend it had never been there, but the smile remained and Bofur knew that the risk was worth it.

"Well," Lady Billa said, glancing between the three dwarves in her study, "As I see it, Mister Bifur has several options. He can stay in Bag End with me, and earn his keep by watching over the children, particularly the elf Lithir, and ensuring their safety and being their primary caregiver. That would last for a week or so, for the dwarflings, and perhaps longer, depending on whether Lithir decides to stay in the Shire." This option didn't seem to be gaining Thorin's approval, and Bofur didn't like it either.

"Or," she said, "He can be the supervisor at the smials. He would live there for half the rent and be paid a stipend to watch over the smials. He would be in charge of settling disputes, reporting to me and Mister Thorin about the goings on at the smial, collecting rent and making sure everyone is taken care of."

"Finally," she said thoughtfully, "He could stay in Bag End and make a craft to sell at market, and pay his rent out of his profit. It is up to you, Mister Bifur, which option you take so long as Thorin has no objection to any of these," Lady Billa said, turning to Thorin.

The king inclined his head to her with a quick sign at them. _As you will,_ his fingers said.

"Excellent," she said smiling. "You may inform me of your decision any time in the next three days. If there's nothing else, gentlemen?" she asked politely. Thorin made a cough, and Dwalin appeared to show them out. Bofur marveled over that for a moment. _The Captain of the Guard, playing the chamberlain? How odd._

As Dwalin closed the door behind them, they collected their boots and sat on the front porch to lace them on. Bofur waited, wondering if Bifur would be angry with him or have anything to say. He didn't say a word.

However, as they began the long walk down to the smials, Bifur didn't just hum. He sang, with a rich deep voice and a smile. And as the Khuzdul words flowed over Bofur and gained several admiring glances from passersby, Bofur couldn't help but grin with the peculiar joy that comes from witnessing good, honest people doing good, honest things, and start to sing, too. Though he was rusty, he tried his best to find the counterpart and, singing together, Bifur and Bofur walked happily away from Bag End.

It had been, Bofur thought, a very good day.


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Your reviews are awesome! They are the nectar and ambrosia of the writing gods. Please, feed me.

 _Summary:_ _On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 36

After hearing that the stonemasons were returning to Ered Luin for the winter, the hobbits (who had grown rather fond of having them around) immediately made preparations for a going-away party that would convince them to come back soon.

There was dancing (which the dwarves could do rather well now) and drinking competitions, and the dwarves gifted the hobbits with a rousing display of skill as they cleaned the dishes. Several hobbits fainted during the display, and were relieved to see the dishes clean and unharmed after they were gently roused.

The dwarves were sent on their way the next morning, loaded heavily with supplies and food. Their clothes were newer and thicker, and each of them sported scarves and mittens from well-meaning hobbit gammers. They wouldn't have accepted the gifts, but they had witnessed the ferocity of the knitting competition the night before, and did not dare to refuse. They had also been gifted with a pair of knitted 'sockhats,' but since the socks were made to size for hobbit feet, they were far too big for the dwarves' feet. Several enterprising dwarves, however, had immediately noticed that sockhats were more suitable as hats than as socks, and sported them accordingly to keep their ears warm.

Nori and Bifur stayed behind, taking lodgings at Bag End until the caravans came. It would probably be about a week, according to Thorin. Bifur was carving things in his free time, but accepted the post as babysitter, even if it meant looking after the elf. Nori and Billa were having a thief-off, engaged in a silent, subtle war of snatching personal items and defending their belongings. Dwalin (who was always cautious of the thief) was the only one who had noticed, and if he thought it was a perverse way for a guest to earn their keep, his disapproval was limited to suspicious glares.

Thorin was keeping near to Billa, sitting in on her history lessons with Balin, listening to her ideas for teaching Ori, observing while she arranged for the furnishing of the smials and participating in her lessons with Dwalin. He kept smiling a soft smile, and his eyes followed her.

The payment for his swords was complete, a mountain of blankets having been folded and loaded into wagons, and barrels filled with rice, corn, and wheat having been sealed and loaded also. If Billa surreptitiously arranged for several kegs of Thorin's favorite hobbit-wine to be included, he wouldn't find out until it was too late. In any case, several wagons were loaded and ready to go. They would be driven by the dwarven guards who escorted the caravan to the Shire when Thorin was ready to leave.

Speaking of Thorin's departure, Billa was trying not to think about it. If she happened to drag Thorin off on picnics almost every day, well, no one said anything. If she made sure to bring him lunch at the forge, and made sure he had cool water, no one else was around to see it. If she spent more time in her lessons interacting with Thorin than with her teacher, no one seemed to blame her.

Billa knew that Thorin had to leave, and she respected that. Her best friend was a king, after all. It was foolish to think that he would always be here, in the Shire, in Bag End with her, and she knew that. Unfortunately, Thorin had grown so intimately involved in her new life that Billa wasn't sure what she was going to do when he left. For all that she was eager to see the dwarves arrive, she began to dread the day when the fires at Needlepoint would be visible, because that would mean Thorin had to go.

Billa had never felt this strongly attached to anyone, not since her parents had died. Of course, she didn't consider Thorin a parent, but Thorin was family nonetheless. In her old life, the only family she had was Frodo, the nephew she partly raised. Thorin, being on equal standing with her, was understandably much closer in her heart and in her mind. She would miss him, achingly, when he left.

She arranged for several containers of blackberry preserves to be included in Thorin's wagons. And a few more kegs of wine. And she knitted him a scarf, mittens, socks (the right size) and a cap. And then another scarf. And then a set for Fili and Kili, and Dis. And another barrel of blackberry preserves.

Finally, the dreaded fires at Needlepoint were lit, and the caravans were almost here. Thorin spent the next two days almost entirely in the forge, and Billa moped. Of course, she still went to every lesson, made as many blackberry treats as she could, and spent time in the market, gossiping and tweaking public opinion until it suited her. Dwalin joined her in the market, giving lessons openly and spending as much time with his newfound friends as he could.

Finally, Thorin emerged from his forge and sought her out. It was dark, and she was in the drawing room, on the sofa by the fire, knitting. The caravans would arrive tomorrow, and she had to finish these gifts for her dwarven family before they arrived.

Thorin, when he peered into the room, didn't see any of the worry or loneliness that had been looming over her. He only saw the way the fire reflected in her hair as her curls cascaded over one shoulder, the bead glinting regally in the light; the smooth glow of her skin; the perfect bow of her lips; the nimble industry of her dainty hands. She was beautiful, and he allowed himself a moment to admire her. Then he made his entry.

"Billa," he said softly, and her head darted up, eyes reaching to him. "I've brought you something."

She smiled at him warmly, and nodded her head at the empty place beside her. He padded towards her, socked feet silent. The fire crackled in the hearth as he sat next to hear, sinking into the softness of her furniture. Her home was so comfortable. Ered Luin wasn't this comfortable. Had Erebor been? He couldn't quite recall.

"Dwalin and I intend to return to Ered Luin for the winter," he said to her as she put her knitting away, turning her full attention to him. "Balin will remain behind as my official representative, but you'll have no one to teach you in the sword or staff. I've crafted these," he said, pulling out a package and handing it to her.

She turned the package over in her hands. It was wrapped in cloth which she slowly unwound, revealing metal which gleamed in the firelight. Twelve slender knives had he made, laboring as quickly and as perfectly as he could. They were identical in weight and balance so that when she was familiar with one, she knew them all. The only differences in them were the signs pounded onto the handles, which she fingered.

"I've crafted these," he repeated, "for you. Nori may teach you to throw them, if you desire it. They are meant to be thrown, but can be wielded in necessity. The marks on the handles are numbers so you may keep track of them," he explained quietly. She trailed her hands admiringly over them.

"These blades are beautiful," she said admiringly. "No matter how many times I see it, I can't believe how perfect your work is." He had to smile at that. "I don't recognize the numbers. They're not Westron or Hobbitish or Sindarin," she said curiously.

"No," he said slowly. "They're not from any language you know..." Thorin took a deep breath. This was the serious part. "They are in my language. In Khuzdul."

Billa gasped. "But Thorin!" she exlaimed. "This is-. How can-?" She trailed off, gazing at him with wide, bewildered eyes.

"This is a gesture of trust, Billa," Thorin told her gravely. "Any dwarf who looks at these will be able to tell that they were crafted by me specifically for you, and they will recognize the trust that I have given you. It is as if I was there in person, vouching for your character and recognizing your authority," he explained.

She stared at him, recognizing the weight of the trust he was giving her.

"If ever you were to betray this trust, Billa," he continued, "Every dwarf who has ever seen these would know, and my judgment would forever be called into question."

Billa paled, shaking her head and pushing the knives away from her.

"No, Thorin," she said frantically. "I won't have that responsibility. I _can't._ "

Thorin glared, affronted. "Then you are refusing my gift?" he spat sourly, hurt by her rejection. _Was Balin right?_ he thought, shocked.

" _Thorin!_ " she exclaimed in agitation, "I'm just a hobbit! I've made mistakes, and I will continue to do so. I will _not_ take these, and carry your reputation as well as my own." Her voice was starting to rise, and she gesticulated wildly. "My shoulders just aren't big enough! I could cost you _your throne,_ Thorin Oakenshield. Just one mistake - one well-meaning mistake, _a single miscalculation,_ and I could ruin everything for you," she said soulfully. She grabbed his hand, clutching it with both of hers as she gazed up at him, her heart in her eyes.

"I am honored and overwhelmed by this gesture of trust, Thorin Oakenshield," she told him earnestly, and Thorin, regretfully, could see that she meant that. "That you think I am worthy of such trust means the world to me, Thorin. But... there are things... I haven't been..." She trailed off, hanging her head. She gripped his hands tighter, and he gently squeezed back.

"Thorin," she said softly, seeming to have gathered her thoughts, "You deserve-." She choked gently. Was that a sniffle? "You deserve to have all of the facts. I need to tell you a story. It's a very long, very impossible story, but I swear that it is a true one. And if, at the end of the story, you still want to give me these beautiful, wonderfully-crafted knives, I will accept them. Whether you will give them as a gift or stab one straight into my heart, I leave to you," she said grimly, and Thorin reared back. What on earth did she mean by that? "You would be within your rights, no matter how you choose to react."

Suspicious now, Thorin watched her warily, awaiting an explanation. She huffed softly, humorlessly, her head still hanging low.

"I only ask," she continued, "that you do not leave or interrupt until the tale is over. It will be harder than you know. Can you do this?" she asked, for the first time looking up into his eyes. Her own eyes were glassy, wet with unshed tears. He scowled back at her, not knowing what to expect and not liking the feeling. Recognizing that she would not proceed with her mysterious explanation until he had agreed to her terms, he finally nodded. _What is she hiding?_ he thought.

Instead of launching into her story, she stood, tugging on his arm until he stood as well, the knives tumbling to the sofa behind them. She pulled him outside, gesturing to his boots, which he put on with a suspicious and frustrated glare.

"Well?" he said, voice rough with impatience.

"Let's take a ride," she said, leading him to the ponies. She saddled them quickly as he continued to fume at the delay. She tantalized his curiosity, and then continued to draw out her silence! Oh, it was unbearable. He grabbed her reins and then swung up onto his own mount so she couldn't get away. Instead of huffing or making a teasing comment like usual, she only sighed and obediently mounted the pony. He led them down to the road, and then his patience was at an end.

"Well?" he said again. "What are you waiting for? Speak."

Billa put her face in her hands for a moment, and then began her tale.


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

SHAMELESS PLUG: I'm working on a new story, called There Are No Stupid Questions. Chapter one is up. Here's the summary: _Instead of tip-toeing around the subject like a proper, respectable hobbit, Billa Baggins decides to face the issue like a dwarf and ask straight out. "Thorin," she said pleasantly as he pawed through piles of gold, "Have you gone mad?"  
_ _In which Billa Baggins confronts Thorin about the Elves and Men on his kingly doorstep, and won't take no for an answer._

Here and now, in this chapter, Billa relives the worst, most painful memories of her entire life, where she had a traumatic falling out with her family and they almost killed her, and then watched her still-estranged family be brutally murdered in front of her while she was helpless to save them.

Repentance is where you make something right again, by confessing what you did to the party you wronged, undoing the damage or making reparations, apologizing, and submitting yourself to their judgment. Billa willingly submits herself to Thorin in this chapter, believing that she has wronged him both in stealing the Arkenstone and hiding her past from him. Even when she was sailing to the Undying Lands in the first chapter, she was feeling guilty for this. That is over 80 years! The only way she will ever be at peace is if Thorin knows the whole truth and passes judgement as her king, as her friend, and as the wronged party.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 37

When Balin came to him and insisted that the hobbit was hiding something, Thorin had been more than skeptical. The idea had been ludicrous, and Thorin had told him so. Despite all her mad little schemes, Billa was one of the most trustworthy individuals he had ever met. She had done so much for them! How could Balin be suspicious?

Then, he had listened as Balin explained how curious it was that she got along with them so perfectly well, and she had right from the start. Thorin remembered how difficult it had been to get rid of her, how she stood up to his glares and refused to back down. He had thought that it simply meant she really was perfect for them. Could there be more to the story? He rather doubted it.

Balin reminded him of the fight with the slavers. She had killed three Men without hesitation when Dwalin had only been teaching her for a month. Thorin had thought it spoke to her nerves of steel, but Balin reminded him of their own first battles, and how each new soldier would be sick without exception. Thorin was curious now, but had remained unconcerned. Even if she was keeping secrets, he did not think they were serious ones. This was Billa, after all, and she was family.

Then Balin had proposed a test. Balin thought that her attachment to the dwarves was genuine, and had reassured Thorin that she seemed to genuinely hold him in high esteem. Balin said that if Thorin was to press her, Billa would confess if she was truly hiding something. He suggested that Thorin make some grand gesture of trust to Billa, and if Billa confessed something, it was up to Thorin to judge. If there was nothing to confess, Thorin could let the gesture stand.

Thorin mulled over this idea, and agreed. He doubted anything would come of it, but it would put Balin's fears to rest and also be an excuse to make Billa a gift. He'd need Balin's approval if he chose to make Billa his queen, anyway.

So he had forged her a beautiful set of throwing knives. And in tiny Khuzdul runes around the handle of each knife, he engraved the true story that this knife was one of twelve given as a gesture of trust, respect and admiration from Thorin Oakenshield King in Exile of Erebor to Billa Baggins, Princess of the Shire, adopted into the line of Durin. Then, in a much larger rune, he had engraved a single number on each handle.

Any dwarf that saw these would see that Thorin had completely vouched for Billa's character, and that he trusted her completely. They would be able to trust her judgment and authority as they would have trusted his own. If ever she were to betray or break that trust, her name would be blackened along with his own, and he would quite possibly go down with her. His authority would be lost and his judgment called into question. It was something that was only given to the most trustworthy of allies and friends, and to his knowledge, such a gesture had never been betrayed. He knew that Billa wouldn't be the first.

Then he gave them to Billa, and instead of rejoicing over the gift, or kissing him as he had hoped and half-expected, she paled and pushed them away, stuttering explanations like a criminal caught redhanded. Her reaction made Thorin go cold.

 _Balin was right,_ he thought numbly. _She's hiding something, and from the way she's acting so frightened of me, it's a great deal more serious than Balin thought._

The night air was biting, numbing his fingers as she explained.

"Billa Baggins didn't leave the Shire, ever, until she was fifty years old and Gandalf the Grey showed up at her doorstep in 2941. You called him Tharkunn. He offered me an adventure and I refused, because adventures were not respectable things and as a Baggins, I was nothing if not respectable. He refused to take no for an answer, and the next day, thirteen dwarves showed up at my door, one by one. First was Dwalin, and I was terrified. He was the first dwarf I had ever seen, and I could not have imagined a more terrifying sight. He walked right into my smial and asked where the food was. I was so confused but didn't quite dare to confront him, and then came Balin, and Fili and Kili, and then Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori and Gandalf all showed up. They ransacked my pantries and frightened me out of my wits, all the while Gandalf was watching amusedly and refusing to explain himself. They had finished eating when a knock at the door came, and everyone fell silent. I answered the door, and you were there. You were terribly rude, and said I was more like a grocer than a burglar, which confused me terribly. It turned out you were going on a quest to reclaim Erebor, and had been refused help from the Seven Kingdoms, and so mustered a company of these thirteen dwarves. You needed a burglar and a fourteenth member, and Gandalf chose me," she said. Thorin's mind was whirling, but his ire was slowly rising. Did she think impossible tall tales would satisfy him? He wanted answers, not yarns!

"Gandalf produced a key which your father had given him. Gandalf had found him wandering near Dol Guldur, and had been entrusted with the key to give to you. Along with the key was a map of a secret passageway into Erebor, that would only open on Durin's Day," she said. Thorin was shocked out of his ire by this.

"Did you read the map?" he interrupted her, and she allowed him.

"I could not," she admitted. "It was in ancient Khuzdul, and also there was a secret line of Moon Runes, which Lord Elrond read for us in Rivendell," she said.

Thorin snorted. "Now I know this is false. We would never have gone to Rivendell," he said derisively.

Unexpectedly, Billa grinned at that. "You certainly didn't want to," she admitted. "First we were captured by Trolls, which is a long story, but after they were defeated, we found their hoard, in which were two swords made by the High Elves of Gondolin. You and Gandalf each took one. You took Orcrist, and he took Glamdring. When we left the hoard, a wizard named Radagast came up to speak with Gandalf, and then we were set upon by a pack of orcs and Wargs. Radagast made to draw them off, but they caught on to us anyway. They surrounded us, and the only way to escape was down a tunnel that Gandalf found. After we hid in the tunnel, a party of elves came to hunt the orcs, and when we found the end of the tunnel, we discovered that it led to Rivendell, and Gandalf had been trying to get you there the whole time so Elrond could read the map," she said, finishing the long-winded explanation.

Thorin considered this. He decided to listen until the end of the story before deciding if she was mad or not. He'd put off that decision as long as he could.

"Do you remember what the Moon Runes said," he asked her.

She smiled. "Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole*" she recited. He hmmmed noncommittally, and she huffed at him. "Anything else, or can I continue the story?" she asked, more relaxed now than she had been.

"Was there actually a door?" he asked, humoring her.

She grinned. "Yes, a secret door hidden behind the huge stone statue of Thror on the mountainside. Stairs wound up across and behind it, leading to the door," she told him.

Thorin froze for a moment. _How had she known about that statue?_

"Let's skip the middle of the story for a moment," he told her, his lips going numb, whether from cold or disbelief he did not know, "and you just tell me everything you claim to remember about Erebor." He didn't know how she had heard about that statue, but someone must have told her. This little joke of hers was in very poor taste.

"Blackberry bushes grow wild," she said, "And Dale was nothing more than a pile of stones. There was a windlance in Lake Town, and a Black Arrow that had been passed down in Girion of Dale's family line," she recalled. Then she fixed him with a look. "You should try to rediscover the secret to forging Black Arrows," she told him firmly. "Girion hit Smaug and chipped off a scale on his left breast, and that is how Smaug was originally killed. When we woke him, he flew to Lake Town to take vengeance and Bard, Girion's descendant, killed him in that exact place with a Black Arrow."

Thorin was glad that all he was required to do was hold the reins, because if he had been walking, Thorin was sure he would have tripped or something.

"Anything else?" he asked hoarsely.

She thought for a moment. "Carved into the stone behind the secret door was a carving. Balin told me what it meant, but I can draw it for you, if you like."

Thorin wasn't that patient. "Describe it to me," he said.

"There were runes all around the edges," she said. "It was a throne, I think, all sharp lines and angles. Above it was a stone that shone, its rays reaching across the whole picture." Thorin gulped. He had seen that picture before. Billa wasn't sounding nearly as crazy as she should have.

"And what did you do when we got there?" he asked, almost starting to believe her.

"I was hired as the burglar," she reminded him. "I was sent to sneak into the hoard and steal the Arkenstone for you, to call the seven kingdoms to your aid. Unfortunately, Smaug woke up and came to hunt us. You led us up to the western guard room, but all we found were bodies," she said softly. "There was no way out. We thought of going down to hide in the mines and last for a few days, but you refused." Her voice turned proud then, and she continued, "You refused to die that way, clawing for breath*. You had us separate and make for the forges. It was inspiring," she admitted. "You said that if this was to end in fire, we would all burn together," she quoted, and he could hear the passion and admiration in her voice. How strange it felt, the be the subject of her admiration for something he hadn't done.

"And then?" he said, his voice still hoarse.

"We made our way to the forge. You almost got eaten on the way there," she scoffed fondly. "The forges were stone cold, and Balin said that we had nothing hot enough to light them. You," she laughed, "proceeded to insult Smaug and infuriate him until he spewed flame into the forges, lighting them immediately. 'I did not think to see you so easily outwitted,'" she mimicked, "'You've grown slow and fat in your dotage... Slug!'" she laughed. "He could not resist. We led him a merry chase around the forge, and you had me pull a lever to start the water moving. When the gold in the forges was hot and liquid, you led Smaug to the gallery of the kings," Thorin was icy cold. How could she know all of this? The geography, the names. Impossible.

"There was a mold there of stone, and it towered even taller than Smaug did. Smaug knew we had come from Lake Town, and just as he was about to fly out and wreak his revenge, you called him back. 'Here, you witless worm,' you cried," she reminisced, fond and yet sad. "'I am taking back what you stole. This is not your Kingdom! These are Dwarf lands! This is Dwarf gold! And we will have our revenge,' you said." She sighed. "Then we pulled away the anchors, and the mold fell away, and Smaug stared, entranced, at the golden dwarf that towered over him. Then it began to burst," she described, "and the gold pooled all around, dragging Smaug under. We thought him dead, but," she hesitated, "he wasn't. He burst out and ravaged Lake Town, burning and killing until there was nothing left."

"And in Lake Town he was killed," Thorin repeated. "And was that the end of it?" he asked. "Am I to pass judgment now?"

She winced and shook her head. "No," she said weakly. "No, there's more."

Thorin waited.

She sighed. "I had the Arkenstone in my pocket," she admitted. "When I first fled from the dragon, you held a sword to my throat and, even as the dragon was rampaging towards us, demanded if I had found it. You would not let me pass. Balin had to pull you away, and it wasn't until Smaug spewed fire at us that you seemed to come back to normal. But, as soon as Smaug was dead, a golden haze fell over your eyes," she whispered, haunted. The moon was high in the sky now, and Thorin had no idea where they were. The breeze made tree branches sway, and the ponies' hooves were the loudest sound he could hear. They echoed eerily.

 _No,_ Thorin thought. _Not the gold sickness. Not me._ "And so I reigned over Erebor in madness?" he whispered, not wanting to hear it. He knew the symptoms well enough.

"Worse," she said, and Thorin flinched. "You refused to eat, or sleep, or plan for anything. Fili, Kili, Oin and Bofur had been in Lake Town when it burned, but you didn't spare them a thought. You immediately set everyone to either building the gate, or searching for the Arkenstone. We had no stores of food, and winter was coming, and we were surely going to starve. The others eventually made their way back to us, but you refused to leave the treasury to greet them. Gone were the leathers, furs, and armor you had worn for our entire journey. You draped yourself in gold. Your moods were unpredictable, one minute generous and solicitous, and the next vicious and suspicious. You gave me a mithril shirt," she remembered, sorrow in her voice, "and the Arkenstone weighed like an anvil in my pocket. You began to accuse your dwarves of conspiracy after days without finding the Arkenstone. I took aside- well, I asked one of them if it would help if the Arkenstone were to be found. He said it would only make the madness worse, and so I waited." There were tears coming down her cheeks now, and Thorin thought he might be crying too. Not to care if Fili and Kili had been hurt? He had always feared if the gold sickness should come to him. He hadn't done any of this, but he still felt impossibly guilty.

"Then," Billa said, and Thorin cringed. There was more yet to come? "The people of Lake Town came to Erebor to ask for aid. They brought with them a host of Woodland Elves who had offered them aid from the dragon." She sighed irritably. "We had been imprisoned in Mirkwood by Thranduil, and I had had to help you escape with a magic ring that turned me invisible, but tensions were high. The Men asked for gold to help them rebuild, and you refused them, for all that you had promised that they would share in the wealth of the mountain. You refused them aid just like Thranduil had refused you his." She sighed again. "I understand that we were starving ourselves, and it's not like any of us could eat gold, but you refused to negotiate at all. You shot at their messengers. And you sent for Dain to defend your mountain by force. I asked that they be made welcome to my fourteenth share, but you refused to hear of it. Both you and Thranduil were ready to go to war for this, and I refused to let you die. Gandalf came, but that changed nothing."

"This is the part that will determine my fate now, I think," she admitted shakily. "I took the Arkenstone down by night, and... I gave it to Gandalf and Bard to be held against my fourteenth share. The next morning, they came to negotiate again, and revealed the Arkenstone. You were-" she swallowed, regret and self-loathing in her voice. "You were so disbelieving... and then enraged. I admitted my part and you... you took me by the throat and... you wanted to throw me from the ramparts," she said, breathing heavily, her eyes clenched shut. "Gandalf stopped you, and I fled down to their camp. You... banished me, and no friendship of yours went with me," she said.

"Is that all?" Thorin said, feeling like his heart had been carved out.

"No," she said, her voice high and pained. "For all my good intentions, that betrayal did not keep you alive, nor secure peace for your people.

"Dain arrived with his dwarves, but so did an army of orcs. Azog did not die in Moria; he had hunted us since the Trolls, and he had mustered two armies, though we only knew about the first. Erebor was defended by Men, Elves, and Dwarves in what was called the Battle of the Five Armies. You remained locked up for much of the battle, content to guard your gold. I don't know what happened, but something changed, and you charged from your mountain, all thirteen of you, and entered the fray. You saw Azog's signalling post, up on Ravenshill, and went with Dwalin, Fili and Kili to cut the head off the snake. You did not know," her voice broke. "You did not know that it was a trap, and there was a second army coming, and they would overcome Ravenshill before entering the battle. F-" she sniffled and coughed a little, her face and voice wet. "Fili and Kili were killed by Azog and his son, Bolg. And you... You killed Azog in the end, but at the cost of your own life. I had tried to warn you of the trap, but I arrived too late. I held you in my arms," she choked on a sob, "And you renewed our f-friendship, and asked f-for _my_ f-f-forgiveness, and then you were g-gone!"

Billa keened, pressing her hands to her face to stifle the sound, and Thorin mopped a hand over his own face, though it did nothing but smear his tears across his face. _What a dreadful story!_ Thorin thought, horrified.

"The eagles came and the battle was won," she continued after a moment, her voice ragged. "Dain became king under the mountain, and all the others of our company survived. I went back to the Shire, and I did not leave it again until I was one hundred and eleventy-one, and then I left my smial and my magic ring to my heir and nephew, Frodo, and went to live with the elves. There is another story in that, but suffice it to say, I sailed with the elves for the Undying Lands twenty years later, and the last thing I remember of that life was being eaten by an enormous serpent right from the deck." Her voice was calmer now, and Thorin's own emotions calmed to listen to her.

"I woke up in Bag End, and at first I thought it was the afterlife, but soon I realized that I was somehow back in time, before I met any of you. I had often thought in my old age of what I could have done to save you, and what I should have done differently, and the moment I realized that you were alive again, I began to make plans to see you.

"Your company," she whispered again, as if admitting a great secret, "had become so much my family that I could not bear to wait another eighteen years to meet you. And I could not bear to see you die again, and I swore to do all I could to help you, and to make up for my mistakes."

She coughed again, clearing her voice and scrubbing at her face. "I never thought to tell you. I did not want to admit to the great mistakes I had made, or their grievous consequences. But... then you presented me with those knives, and it cut straight to my heart. I did not deserve your trust, for I had betrayed it once already. And knowing I did not deserve it, I had to confess the whole of it to you," she said miserably. "That is the whole of it, and I will submit to any judgement you make," she said solemnly, finally meeting his eyes.

Thorin stared for a long moment before he turned his eyes to the road ahead. He was hopelessly lost now, and it must be midnight.

"Take us back," he said quietly, handing Billa her reins but refusing to look at her.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to _think_. The story was too horrible, but something in his soul wouldn't let him disbelieve it. Her descriptions of places she had never seen were hauntingly accurate. Only Balin or himself could have known many of them, and he had listened to her lessons with Balin- this had never come up. Even if it had, Balin would never have shared such recollections with her.

And it seemed Balin had been right. The slavers hadn't been her first kills, or even her first battle. She had gotten along with them so wonderfully because she knew them in a previous life. And yet, his pride insisted, she had lied to him, to all of them. Such a thing was not easily forgiven! But, his heart whispered, she tried so hard to change things for _him_ , and she confessed it all and offered her life _to him._

Thorin didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to do. And so they rode in silence.

* * *

Despite her slumped shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, Billa guided them with confidence and for all that they had wandered the roads for hours, they were back at Bag End within twenty minutes, dismounting and unsaddling the ponies in silence. He walked to the front door and Billa trailed nervously behind him, waiting as he removed his boots.

She followed him down the hall and he walked into the drawing room, gathering the knives back into their cloth and staring at them pensively. She waited in the doorway, worries spinning in her mind like a churning river. _Had she told him enough? Even if he killed her, would he still remember enough of her story to change the future? What must he think of her? What would Fili and Kili think? And Dis?_ Then his voice was calling her away from her thoughts.

"You said you would submit to my judgement," he said, voice low and gravelly, his icy blue eyes piercing her like spears. "That if I chose to stab you through the heart, you would consider it my right."

She held his gaze for a long moment, and nodded.

"Kneel," he said, his lips twisting as he spoke.

Still holding his gaze, she knelt before him, tall and straight as she could, her hands at her sides. He swallowed.

"Close your eyes," he said, his deep voice a whisper. She did so.

Moments passed, and she yet drew breath.

She heard the knives clinking as they moved, and the rustling of the cloth and a zzzt that sounded like a knife cutting through fabric. What was he doing?

She waited, keeping her breathing steady and calm.

She had lived for over one hundred and thirty one years; she did not fear death. If Thorin chose to kill her, at least he would do it cleanly. Whatever he chose, she would finally have his _absolution,_ not just a dying farewell and that, more than living or dying, would give her peace.

Finally, she felt him come closer, bending over her. Was his hand, even now, grasping a knife to cut into her chest?

His hair fell over her face, silky strands caressing her and then he was breathing into her so-sensitive ear. _He must have forgotten the ears!_ she thought hotly, all her composure quickly fleeing. She felt her cheeks heat up, but focused on her breathing, trying to stay calm, just in case these moments were her last. She didn't want to die blushing like an idiot.

Her ear throbbed as he breathed against it once more, and she shivered.

"Billa Baggins," he whispered, and the sound made her tremble. "You have confessed your wrongs and surrendered yourself into my hands for judgement." His voice was like distant thunder, rumbling ominously, threateningly, but quietly. His voice excited her, but the words sobered her, and for all that she continued to blush, she focused clearly on him.

His large, strong hands took one of hers, and she trembled again. He pressed something into it. It felt like a hilt, but the throwing knives had bare metal hilts, and this hilt was silky, like cloth.

"You have said I may drive one of my knives into your heart if that is my decision. Do you stand by this statement?" he asked, and she quickly nodded, making his hair slip against her face, soft and sweet-smelling.

"Speak," he commanded her sharply, making the hair on her arms and the back of her neck raise in sensitive ripples over her skin.

"Yes," she whispered, knowing his ear was just above her mouth.

"I have not yet passed judgement, Billa Baggins," he whispered, still bowing over her, his voice still thrilling her even as his words threatened her. "You will keep this knife, hilt covered from the world just as you covered your true story from me. You will keep this knife on you, always. No matter where you go, you will wear this knife proudly and prominently. You will never, ever use it. When I have made my decision," he leaned closer, brushing his lips against her and making her breath hitch each time his lips touched her ear, "you will kneel, just like this, and offer the knife to me _and then_ ," he growled, low and deep, making her gasp and jerk away. His hand came up and clenched around the back of her neck, gripping her curls and pulling her back towards his mouth. "And then," he growled again, and she could not suppress a whimper at the sound and the way his lips tugged at her ear with each word, "I will return this knife to you, either to your hand or to your heart."

He fell silent, breathing against the shell of her ear, his words reverberating around her soul. She was still trembling, giving tiny starts each time he exhaled against her ear, while his hand still pressed against her, keeping her close.

"Do you understand, Billa Baggins of the line of Durin, Princess of the Shire?" he whispered, and Billa, overwhelmed, began to nod. But the movement pressed her nose into his sweet-smelling hair and rubbed her ear against his mouth and beard and she had to abort the movement, stilling immediately and trying to slow her staggered breathing and her wildly pounding heart.

"Speak," he growled fiercely, and Billa, the trembling wreck that she was, could not disobey.

"I-I understand," she said faintly. She swallowed, praying that this strange, thrilling torture was almost over. Thorin loomed over her for a few moments more, breathing into her ear and moving his fingers against her neck, but then he released her and moved away.

It took all of Billa's strength not to crumple to the ground as soon as his hand was gone. It had been supporting far more of her weight than she had realized, and she focused completely on staying upright, her nerves completely shot after his strange onslaught. She waited for him to dismiss her, or at least allow her to open her eyes, but after several moments passed and he did nothing of the sort, she dared to open her eyes.

The room was empty, devoid of Thorin and the knives he had forged for her. Her knitting was still crumpled on the sofa, where she'd left it. There was no sign that Thorin had been in this room, or that she had confessed everything to him. No sign at all.

It was only as she fell forward onto her hands that she realized he _had_ left something behind. There in her hand was one knife, with cloth tied around the hilt, covering all the beautiful runes that Thorin had engraved. She closed her eyes again and brought it to her lips, gently kissing it in apology and remorse.

"I'm so sorry, Thorin," she whispered to the empty room, regret heavy in her voice.

Then she sighed and slowly stood up, leaning heavily on the couch as her head swam. She clenched her eyes shut and navigated back to her room by touch and memory alone.

She sat on her bed, staring at the beautiful knife in her hands as moonlight poured in over her bedspread. Then she tucked it under her pillow and changed into a nightgown before sliding into her bed.

Despite the late hour, sleep evaded her. _I need a lullaby,_ she thought, her thoughts a little wild. _Oh yes, I know just the one._

Slowly and quietly, she sang the lullaby that she loved more than any she'd heard in childhood.

 _Far over the misty mountains cold,_

 _Through dungeons deep, and caverns old,_

 _We must away ere break of day_

 _To find our long forgotten gold._

 _The pines were roaring on the heights_

 _The wind was moaning in the night_

 _The fire was red, it flaming spread_

 _The trees like torches blazed with light_

Her memories of dragon-fire and Erebor and dwarves and war whirled, dream-like in her mind, and slowly, Billa fell into sleep.

For the first time since Thorin had held her in his arms after the slave-raid, Billa had nightmares.


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 38

Nori, being the sneak that he was, couldn't resist eavesdropping when Thorin finally went to give Billa her knives. He was excited to teach her how to use them; he thought she'd be a natural. Also, he'd also have proof to end the bet he and Bifur had taken up about when they would finally kiss. Thorin would kiss her tonight, he was sure, and Nori would win. Unfortunately, instead of the sweet, sappy scene he was expecting, Billa panicked, and that put Nori on his guard.

He'd overheard Balin's suspicions, of course, but he hadn't taken them seriously. Even if Billa had been a mercenary-for-hire in a past life, there was no doubting the fact that she was completely devoted to Thorin now, and had irrevocably tied her reputation in the Shire to him and his dwarves. Nori figured that yes, she could have a secret, but it was probably a much bigger deal in her mind than in reality.

But he snuck out after them, just to be sure.

Billa had been far too overwhelmed with telling her story to overhear his footsteps, and Thorin was too distracted listening to her, and Nori was careful to keep his steps in time with the ponies' hooves.

He listened to her unbelievable story. Time travel? Really? Who had ever even heard of such a thing. The implications made his head hurt. But, Nori was a thief and a good judge of character. He knew when a person was lying, and he knew Billa and all of her tells.

Whether the story was true or not, the fact was that Billa _believed_ that it was true. She earnestly, genuinely believed that she had met them before, and fought with them and traveled with them on a quest to reclaim Erebor. Nori had been young when they fled Erebor, but some of what she described sounded familiar, and listening to her descriptions made him smile wistfully. Then she told of Thorin's descent into madness and then death, which had made Nori shift uncomfortably. That had been hard to take. But still, her voice rang true.

Either she was a seer of some kind, she was subject to particularly vivid and uncomfortably accurate nightmares, she was slightly mad, or she was telling the truth. Considering that her tale had a fifty-fifty chance of being accurate, Nori shrugged and decided that he may as well believe it _could_ have happened, but it no longer _would,_ and that was enough.

He snuck into the house before them and lurked in the shadows, wondering what Thorin would decide. Would he really kill her for this? Nori rather doubted it. But, Thorin had been hurt and shocked by what she had to say, and there was really no telling exactly what he would do.

Then, he loomed over Billa and she knelt willingly before him, straight and proud and unyielding. Nori thought that it was rather a beautiful picture of bravery and trust. Then, Thorin ruined it by leaning over to whisper in her ear, making her blush and shiver and tremble. His hand came up to cup her neck, pulling her close against his lips. His nose was pressed into her curls and his hand stroked her neck, and Billa's face was beet-red by the time he pulled away. _There,_ thought Nori, _is the sappy scene I was waiting for._ Then, Thorin walked out of the drawing room, but paused in the shadows like Nori to watch her reaction.

She tumbled down to her hands and knees, deeply affected by whatever he had said. In her hands was one knife, its hilt wrapped in plain cloth. She brought it up to her lips to kiss it, and whispered an apology to Thorin. Then she staggered to her feet and clenched her eyes closed, gripping the knife tightly in one hand while she trailed a hand against the walls with the other. She walked quietly back to her room, and Nori watched her go. Thorin followed her silently on socked feet, and waited by her door.

After a few minutes, Nori could hear a quiet melody coming from the room. He couldn't quite make out the words, but he didn't have to. He knew that song, and from the way Thorin's head fell into his hands, Thorin knew it too.

Thorin's hands scrubbed at his face, and he sighed deeply, his shoulders stooped and weary. Nori watched as Thorin trudged into his room, right next to Billa's and shut the door.

Nori stared after them for a long time. That was not how he had expected the night to go.


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

SHAMELESS PLUG: I'm working on a new story, called No Such Thing As Stupid Questions. Or it might be titled, There Are No Stupid Questions. It's something about Stupid Questions! In any case, it's a fix-it fic without time travel, where Billa confronts Thorin in Erebor about his alleged gold sickness. Just one chapter so far, but it's a long one with lots of Billa/Thorin!

Note: Some people seem to think that Thorin was threatening or abusing Billa last chapter. His POV: His kind-of girlfriend went partly-crazy and told him to pass judgment on something that she hasn't done and offers to let him kill her. Yeah, he's kind of freaked out. He's not mean to her- he gives her the judgment she wants... as he whispers in her ear.

If that had been unwelcome, Billa would have spoken up or gotten away. Can you really see Billa Baggins just letting some creep feel her up? No. As it is, she's given enough signals to Thorin for him to think it is welcome. He gets nothing out of this save the pleasure of pleasing a partner, reassurance that she wants what he has to give, and hoping that this memory will keep her thinking of him all the way til spring.

If the submissive bit bothers you, know that when one partner is experienced and the other is inexperienced, the inexperienced one often is very submissive until they learn what they're doing. If Billa was more experienced and less innocent, I think she would have recognized her feelings and jumped him by now, and _he_ would be the submissive one.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Bi_ _lla Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 39

Thorin sighed as the sun finally crested the horizon and poured into his window. He'd tossed and turned for much of the night, brooding.

Billa had completely turned his world on its axis, and while he reeled in confusion, she had been steady and strong, even as she surrendered her life into his hands.

Knowing his hands were tied and he could not give her the full gift now, he had wrapped one of his knives, covering the beautiful, poignant hilt. He had pressed it into her fingers, knowing that she would obey when he told her to always wear it but never use it. He had no real fear for her safety, this was the Shire, after all. In any case, she always carried her staff and other knives, and she had a sword at her disposal, as well as Bifur and Nori's protection. No, this knife would not be used until they were ready to to move, either forward into courtship or backwards into friendship. Despite the covered hilt, dwarves would be able to tell just by looking at her bead, at her staff, at her sword and at this knife that she was important to him and to his family, and they would protect and trust her.

Thorin had been so disappointed. That was _not_ how the night was supposed to go. He wanted to leave with some kind of understanding between them, and finally kiss the hobbit that he was truly beginning to love. Instead, she had insisted that he pass judgment on her for something she hadn't done yet.

He had wanted to make her falter, watch her be as affected by his words as he had been by hers, and so he had ruthlessly teased and touched her, kissing at her ears with tormenting lips until her skin was flushed and her breathing uneven and she fairly shook in his arms. She had clutched his knife with one hand and clung to his fur coat with the other, and it had warmed his heart how she pressed her nose into his hair, and how her pulse had pounded under his fingers. If he couldn't leave with an understanding, he'd at least leave her with a memory to keep her warm and thinking of him.

He knew it was hardly the judgement she had expected, nor the delivery, but he had needed to feel in control of _something,_ and she had responded beautifully. He couldn't give her judgment, but he could give her _this_ , and she had leaned eagerly, submissively against him. He had watched until she was safely back in her room, and listened to the sweet, sad melody that he knew no one had taught her.

As for her story, well, he did not wish to call her mad and reject it, but he did not wish to accept it as truth either. It didn't really matter. However things _might_ have turned out once upon a time no longer mattered because clearly, circumstances had changed and that future would no longer come to pass. He clung to that idea fiercely, resolutely rejecting the idea of gold sickness with all his strength. It had not happened, and it _would not_. He'd make doubly sure of it.

In any case, Thorin wasn't sure how to proceed. Stealing the Arkenstone was a big deal but... she hadn't stolen it from _him,_ and her reasoning made sense, and he was having a hard time working up the fury that he must have felt in order to take her by the throat or threaten to throw her from the ramparts. No matter that she had committed a crime, the crime hadn't been committed yet and probably never would. She may consider herself guilty, but she wasn't guilty of anything against _him._

He hardly counted her keeping this story a secret as a crime either. In fact, if it had been blurted from her lips the first moment she came to his forge, he probably would have refused her commission, no matter how much gold she offered. He couldn't really blame her for not wanting to tell him and risk being labelled a lunatic.

And, if the disconcerting accuracy of her geography and descriptions turned out to be nothing more than coincidence and she really was just a little mad, he could hardly fault her for that. Madness ran in his family, too. _P_ _erhaps her kind of madness will balance mine out,_ he thought humorlessly, _and our descendants will be sane_. At least her kind of madness was discrete and didn't interfere with the day-to-day running of a successful kingdom.

In any case, he would grant her judgment after a long, thoughtful winter apart. If, in the spring, he still longed for her and she for him, he would return the knives to her with all their implications and proceed with the courtship. If it was clear one of them had moved on, he would hammer out the details on the handles and let them stand as a token of good-will between them, and the knives would be nothing more than a particularly well-forged set.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face, and rose to face the day. There was much to do.

* * *

Dwalin knew something was wrong the moment he entered the kitchen. No matter how early he had risen each day before this, Billa had been there with breakfast already prepared, a smile on her face and a skip in her step. These past few weeks, she'd practically glowed, especially when Thorin was near.

Today, as he stepped into the kitchen, it was cold, dark, and empty. Billa was nowhere to be seen. No- he amended that. There she was, in the pantry down the hall. He poked his head around the corner, looking in at her. She was dressed, but in leather trousers and a tunic, the likes of which he hadn't seen her wear since Bree. Her hair, instead of rioting around her shoulders and back, was tied back, leaving only her braid from Dis hanging loose over her shoulders. Her face was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes, and the wan smile she mustered when she saw him was clearly faked.

"Good morning, Dwalin," she said with false cheer. "I must have slept in. Just give me a few moments and I'll have something ready," she said, and Dwalin's heart went out to her.

 _Poor lass,_ he thought, _she's taking our impending departure even worse than I feared._

"There, now, Billa," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "Come along and sit at the counter, and I'll show you how a son of Fundin fixes a proper dwarven breakfast."

This time her smile, though small, was genuine. "Thank you, Dwalin," she said, and she followed him out into the kitchen.

As soon as Billa had left the house to check on the smials, Dwalin sought out Nori.

He found the thief lurking just outside the study, obviously listening to Thorin's conversation with Balin.

"-s enough, Balin," came Thorin's growl. "I have heard her confession and I am satisfied. Do _not_ question _her_ or my judgment in this-"

Dwalin seized the thief by the shoulder and hauled him bodily away. To his credit, the thief didn't make a noise even when he was being dragged. For all the thief didn't move his legs at all, he still slid soundlessly on socks across the floor, moved by Dwalin's implacable mass.

Dwalin dragged him down to his own room, pushed him inside, and shut the door behind them.

"Well, guard dog," Nori said, glancing around warily before beginning his usual back-talk. "Whatever it is _you think_ I did, I can assure you that I have done nothing without express approval from-"

"Lady Billa's going to need you," Dwalin interrupted bluntly, uncaring of whatever the thief was going to say. "And I need you to stay with her until we return."

Nori didn't even blink as he adjusted to this unexpected topic.

"I had no expectations of leaving her," Nori said calmly, but Dwalin recognized the evasion.

"Then make absolute expectations of staying," Dwalin said sharply. "I know brothers can be maddening, but this is more important than any momentary discomfort they may engender."

Nori eyed him speculatively. "Explain," he said.

"Lady Billa will need someone on her side," Dwalin said, resigning himself to explaining more than he wanted to tell. "Balin is thinking with his head instead of recognizing what is in her heart, and she will be heartsick enough when Thorin leaves. She will need a friend and an ally, and Bifur can't speak to her, so that will have to be you."

Dwalin sighed and sat on the bed, gesturing the thief towards a chair. "I know you two share your schemes, and that you keep an ear to the ground for her," Dwalin informed Nori. "But that won't be enough. She may need to thrust you into the spotlight at a moment's notice, and you have to simply trust her and play along as best you can."

"Is that what you did?" Nori interjected quickly, swirling one of Dwalin's knives between his fingers. Dwalin eyed him sourly. _How had he gotten that knife?_

"The first time I heard Billa Baggins spinning her stories about the Protector of the Innocent and the Defender of the Weak I wanted to strangle her," Dwalin said bluntly. "And as the stories grew more wild and the rumors spread and the fervor increased, I felt like a liar and a pretender for the first time in my life. I hated it," he said passionately. "But, I recognized the necessity when she explained it to me and, for the sake of those who would follow, I played along. I swore to myself, though, that I would not be a liar and this would not be pretend. If I was forced to tell this tale, then I was going to make sure it was a _true_ one, or else I'd shave my beard."

Nori's eyes widened minutely.

"So I set out to make the rumors true. I did every good deed I could imagine, and several more that Lady Billa cooked up. I was friendly and patient, and did my best to be just like a hero ought to be. And you know, thief, for the first time since Erebor fell I actually felt like a hero." Dwalin snorted humorlessly.

"There are no dragons to slay here," he explained. "No starvation or winter to fight against. No impossible foes, just pig stampedes and twisted ankles and the occasional rescue. All you need to be a hero in the Shire is a strong arm and a willing heart, thief, and you have those. If Lady Billa needs you, will she have your sword?" Dwalin asked.

Nori looked at Dwalin for a moment, and then looked down at the knife he was twirling in his restless fingers. "You don't think I should find her a replacement guard dog from among the caravans?" Nori asked, evading the question.

Dwalin hmphed. "You didn't see the lass this morning. She's not fighting with both eyes open, and her heart's not in it. She's going to need your scheming, thieving ways to keep her head on her shoulders this winter, and no dwarf from the caravans is going to suffice. Will she have your sword?" Dwalin repeated.

Nori huffed. "What is this, the passing of the torch or something? I hardly-"

"Call it whatever you want, Nori," Dwalin said, eyes boring into the thief. Nori started a little as Dwalin actually used his given name. They'd never done that before. "I just want to know if she can count on you to have her back this winter, no matter what. Can she?"

Nori looked down at the filched knife in his hands, and then flung it at Dwalin, who caught it easily out of the air. Nori cracked a smile when Dwalin didn't even flinch. As the Captain of the Guard and a notorious thief, they had hunted each other often enough that potentially-fatal attacks were far more comforting and familiar than actual conversation.

"Aye... Dwalin," Nori said finally. "She has my sword."

Dwalin sheathed the knife in his boot where it belonged, though how Nori had snatched it out of there he'd never quite know.

"Good," he said, before clearing his throat. "Now get out, thief, and keep your sticky fingers to yourself."

Nori smirked at the return to normalcy. "Hush, little guard dog," he chided as he sauntered out of Dwalin's room. "I'm not interested in digging up your bones or stealing your toys. Whatever would Mama Billa and Papa Thorin think?"

Dwalin waited until the door closed before allowing his grin to show.


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

SHAMELESS PLUG: I'm working on a new story, called No Such Thing As Stupid Questions. Or it might be titled, There Are No Stupid Questions. It's something about Stupid Questions! In any case, it's a fix-it fic without time travel, where Billa confronts Thorin in Erebor about his alleged gold sickness. Is Thorin really as mad as he comes off in the books and movies?

Reviewers, thank you! Your reviews these last few days have helped me keep writing. I really want to finish this fic. Keep giving me solid, meaty reviews, and we can finish this together. Thank you! Would you call this a slowburn Bagginshield? Any other descriptors to throw into the summary?

Veronica- I'm not going to lie. I read your three reviews for the previous chapters and started to write right away! And while I was writing, I kept checking to see if you'd reviewed the final chapter yet. Also- I'll admit to wanting to find a middle-aged widow with kids for Balin, and suddenly he's baffled because his little wife is always pregnant, they're _girls,_ and _he's a dad,_ and Dwalin comes back to visit the Shire one year and he has like, fourteen nieces and when Balin's family goes back to visit Ered Luin all the dwarves are totally boggled by how many little kids introduce themselves as So-and-so, daughter of Balin. And then more and more dwarves start to eye the hobbits, calculating age differences and wondering if they could really have that many children and looking for spouses in the Shire, and a generation later there are enough dwobbits around that the aging difference doesn't matter nearly so much. Centuries from now, people will look back on that as the event that changed the course of history for the dwarves because their population increased and other stuff happened and _they all lived happily ever after._ Yeah. Totally been thinking about that. I wanted to do Dwalin, but he lives into his mid-300s, and I don't want to have him mourning a wifey-kins who grows old and withers away before he's even 250.

Note: Some people seem to have negative connotations with the word wifey, apparently. I call my husband Hubbykins, and I'm Wifeykins. Deal with it.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 40

Billa had nightmares.

 _She saw Lake Town burn again, but this time Smaug didn't die._

 _He laid waste to Lake Town and cut a trail of devastation west, through Rivendell and into the Shire, where thirteen dwarves, two dwarflings, an elfling and a hobbit fauntling with dark brown curls and wide blue eyes were having dinner at Bag End._

 _Billa had just served blackberry pie when the wind started to pick up, a hot dry air that swept into a hurricane, and then the pines were roaring, and as they rushed to the windows they could see the Shire burning, and Erebor a few miles away burning, burning, burning, and Smaug flew overhead, spewing fire and destruction, and then Bag End was on fire and the doors were locked and they couldn't get out and her brave, brave dwarves put on their grim faces and herded the young ones into the middle of their war circle, and then Azog was there and Thorin was charging, and then Thorin was there, on the ground, and the snow burned against her skin as she collapsed next to him and he was so pale and there was blood on his face and his hands and his chest, and then his piercing blue eyes grew dull and his rumbling, deep voice fell quiet, and then he was gone, and Billa was alone in the burning snow, weeping, weeping, weeping._

Billa jerked upright, her hand reaching for her war-staff even as her other hand swept the covers off. She rolled off the bed, landing half crouched and menacing the dark figure that loomed in her room. Then her vision cleared, and the menacing figure became her wardrobe, and the sun was rising and _the caravan would be here soon._

She dressed quickly, throwing on her trousers and buckling on her sword. She was about to sweep out of the room when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the sunlight reflecting on something on the bed. _Ah, yes,_ she thought. _Thorin's knife._

She sat down heavily.

Last night had been... odd. And overwhelming. There had been the dread of confessing all, followed by the relief and euphoria of having come clean, and then the steady acceptance that, whatever happened next, she would finally have what she deserved, what _Thorin and her dwarves_ deserved, and she could be at peace. Her treachery would be over.

And then, well. Thorin had neither condemned nor forgiven her. He'd given her something of a trial period, she supposed, but the way he had given it-. She blushed hotly.

She dimly remembered, one hundred and ten or so years ago, walking in on Belladonna and Bungo Baggins. They'd been sitting in that very same drawing room, on the sofa together, and Mother had been _nibbling on his ears!_ And Father, Father had been blushing just as hotly as Billa had been last night.

Billa thought she should feel upset at the liberty that Thorin had taken with her. She remembered one of her erstwhile suitors had tried to tempt her into marriage with him by breathing hotly on her ears, and she had felt _violated,_ and then _furious!_ And she had smashed a teacup on his head.

Thorin though... she hadn't felt violated or frightened or angry at all. She had felt... dizzy, and breathless, and there had been fireworks shooting behind her eyelids. Instead of throwing things at him and forcing him to leave, she... Billa shifted uncomfortably, feeling a vague sense of shame. _She wanted him to do it again._

Billa groaned and put her head in her hands. _It's perfectly understandable to admire Thorin,_ she told herself. _He's the epitome of masculinity, capability, and is a very dear friend._

She sighed deeply. Perhaps it was normal to develop these feelings between very good friends? She'd never felt like this before, but she'd never had a friend go breathing on her ears like this. Somehow, she didn't think any of her other friends would have quite the same affect, should they ever try. Nori and Dwalin and Dis and the lads were all very dear to her, but not so close to her as Thorin. She and Thorin had spent hours together every day, solving problems and sharing stories and even just sitting in companionable silence as Thorin brooded (not so grumpily as he once had) and Billa knitted or read or sometimes just looked at him, wondering over the color in his cheeks and the strange new smoothness of his unfurrowed brow.

Billa heard Dwalin's door open, and realized she'd been wool-gathering all this time. She quickly strapped the beautiful little knife onto her belt, clearly visible next to not-Sting. Then she glanced at the mirror, frowning at the circles under her eyes. Finally, she ducked out of her room to face the day.

* * *

Billa thought about taking the dwarflings with her down to the smials to greet their families, but realized with a grimace that they would want Lithir to come with them, and it would be best if an elf was not the first thing these dwarves saw when they arrived at their new home. So, she rode down herself, although Bifur joined her a few moments later, twirling flowers in one hand. Thinking of the children and then flowers made her think of the flower she had given to Lily as a message, and then she got a crazy idea.

"You know, Mister Bifur," Billa said abruptly, "Hobbits often use a different language to communicate instead of just Westron. Unlike Khuzdul or Iglishmek," she said, ignoring the blink of surprise he gave her when she named the super-secret languages of dwarves, "this language requires neither words nor voices nor fingers. You don't even need to be in person to communicate with it. In fact, Mister Bifur, I think it would be a wonderful language for you to learn," she said.

Bifur stared at her for a moment, smiling, and then his face sank. He gave her a sad look, and then rapped a knuckle against his forehead as if to say, _I'd learn if I could, but this ax won't let me._

 _"_ None of that now," she said sharply. "You are a natural for this language. In fact, you could speak a little this very instant. If you were to hand me the blue flowers in your hand, you'd be telling me you thought I was a great beauty. But, if you handed me the white ones, you'd be saying how courageous I am."

Bifur looked down at the flowers in his hands, twiddling them uncomfortably. Then he glanced at her shyly and cocked his head. Billa had no idea what he meant, but decided to keep talking and hope she answered his unspoken question.

"I know it's not a very clear method of communication- you can hardly ask for the time of day or invite someone to tea, but there are hundreds of flowers in the Shire, and that's a hundred different messages you can convey. I have a book, in Bag End, if you wanted to learn more. Can you... Can you still read Westron?" She asked him curiously.

Sadly, Bifur shook his head.

"Can you read Khuzdul?" she asked, determined to find a way forward. Bifur eyed her thoughtfully and nodded.

"I'm going to get an apprentice, three days of the week," she informed him. "His name is Ori, and he's a shy lad with red hair and wants to be a scribe. Obviously, I can't teach him Khuzdul but... I'd like to set him to translating things from Sindarin and Westron into Khuzdul, and if you were interested, Mister Bifur, that book on flower language could be first on the list," she offered.

Bifur stared at her, hope rising in his eyes. Then a large smile burst onto his face and he nodded furiously. Billa grinned and laughed, and he laughed too. It was a rough, rusty, deep sound and Billa was shocked for a moment to realize she didn't recognize it. _Had she never heard Bifur laugh before?_ She discarded the thought, because it didn't matter because he was laughing now.

Then, he skillfully swept down and plucked more flowers from the path, showing them to her and she explained their meanings, and then she offered to quiz him on them, and so the ride was quickly passed in smiles and good cheer.

* * *

A little flock of well-meaning hobbits had formed at the smials, waiting for their guests, and Billa quickly set them to work opening up the windows, airing the bedding and making any last-minute arrangements that were necessary. Then she shooed them all away and dithered over whether to wait here for the caravans or go back to Bag End.

"Well, Mister Bifur," she said nervously. "I don't know whether to wait here and greet them, or go back to Bag End. It'll have been a long trip, and Thorin and Dwalin and the others were going to ride in advance to meet them in any case. What do you think?" she asked.

After a moment, Bifur mimed with his hands. Billa squinted at him.

"Is that a... quill and parchment?" she asked.

Bifur nodded.

"I should leave a note?" she guessed.

Bifur made a waffling _sorta_ gesture.

"You should leave a note?" she guessed again.

Bifur waffled again, and then gestured quickly between the two of them. She narrowed her eyes.

"Weeeee," she drew the syllable out, clearly at a loss, "should leave a note?"

Bifur grinned and Billa smiled back at him before drawing out the necessary supplies from inside the smials.

"How shall we do this?" she asked again. "I hardly know what to say. I want to welcome them here, but I'm feeling unaccountably shy. It's easier when Thorin's around, you know," she confessed, sounding a little guilty. "Because I know that he'll just glower at me if I say something stupid, or at them if they do something stupid. I hardly have any business here. It was different at the work-site, you know, because I was actually needed there to _settle_ things and get them moving. I mean, I'm the _landlord_ but not really, and what should these dwarves want to hear from me? It's been a long journey, they'll probably just want peace and quiet and a hot meal... Do you think I should cook something up to welcome them? Oh, but I hardly know when they'll be here and it would be a waste if it wasn't hot and ready for them..."

She worried aloud while Bifur drew careful runes onto the parchment. Then, he took another parchment and drew lines and swirls on it, and Billa fell silent as a really creditable map of the Shire took shape on parchment.

"Bifur that's..." she trailed off as he charted a path from the Smials to Bag End, and another path to the market, and then left tiny runes in various other places, labeling them.

"That's really good," she finished as he put the quill away. He smiled bemusedly at her and left the parchments on the table along with a vase of freshly picked flowers. Then, still smiling, he tugged Billa gently out of the smial and back towards the ponies.

"Thank you Bifur," she said, and then caught herself. "Mister Bifur," she corrected sheepishly. "Sorry."

Bifur shook his head quickly and Billa back-tracked. "May I just call you Bifur?" she asked, thinking that was the issue.

He smiled at her and nodded. "Then you must call me Billa," she said, beaming at him.

He plucked another flower, and so the discussion continued, all the way back to Bag End.

* * *

When they got back, Halfast was puttering around her garden, and she pulled him aside as Bifur took care of the ponies.

"Mister Gamgee," she began as he waved his clippers genially at her, "I was thinking that I'd really love to have some blackberry bushes planted on my property, as soon as we can. I've become unaccountably fond of the taste. Is that something we could do? I haven't the foggiest idea of what they would need, but I knew that if anyone in the Shire could make a fruit-bearing plant bloom, it would be you," she said, referencing his prize tomatoes. He puffed up eagerly under the praise, and promised to make it happen as soon as possible.

"Er," he paused, thinking hard. "How much of a crop would you like, Lady Billa?" he asked. Billa blushed. The title had been so ubiquitous among the dwarves that even some once-sensible hobbits had started using it.

"If I could make a blackberry pie every day from my own garden," she told him honestly, "I would be a happy hobbit." She listened, wistfully, to the sound of clashing metal that meant Dwalin and Thorin were probably sparring in her backyard.

After settling things with Halfast, she made her own way there, Bifur trailing behind her. Halfway, she paused to clutch at the knife on her belt, double-checking to make sure it was there. She breathed in relief when she found it, safe and sound, _and really,_ she chided herself, _where else would it be?_

She huffed over her silliness and then continued until she found - not just Thorin and Dwalin, but Nori and Balin also, and the dwarflings, and up to a dozen new dwarves, only a few whom she recognized. _Dori, Ori,_ she noted. No other familiar faces though.

One of the dwarves, seeing a hobbit coming, gave a sharp whistle, and Billa smirked as Dwalin and Thorin immediately slipped out of sparring and into dancing. Clearly, the dwarves had been properly instructed on the ways of hobbits.

Then Dwalin noticed it was not just any hobbit and immediately returned to a spar, almost catching Thorin off guard.

"Lady Billa!" Dwalin called. "Won't you join us?" His polite words were totally belied by his bloodthirsty grin. Billa laughed, pleased by the juxtaposition.

"Why thank you, Mister Dwalin, for the kind invitation," she called back playfully. "I suppose I must take advantage of my favorite dance partner ere he departs," she added coyly, dropping a small curtsy. Dwalin snickered, and Billa completed the picture by waving an inviting handkerchief at him and fluttering her eyelashes.

Her antics had Dwalin shouting in laughter, and Thorin ruthlessly took advantage of his distraction. Even as the axe was sent flying out of his hand, he was still giggling. Balin was rolling his eyes genially at his brother's loss of composure, and Nori was smirking. Thorin though... She finally dared to look at him. Thorin was looking at her with the same small, fond smile that she'd grown used to, and she felt a weight drop away from her shoulders.

 _Things would be all right_ , she thought. She'd been telling herself that all day but it was only at this moment that she truly believed it.

* * *

Dwalin dragged her into a spar, and she acquitted herself proudly. She had spent two months under his brutal tutelage, working until her bones turned to jelly, being disarmed and smacked around and generally humiliated on a daily basis until she learned to duck and block, and then to strike back. Today, Dwalin attacked her fiercely, parading her progress in front of his peers.

When he landed a hit that had made her left hand numb and sent her staff soaring out of her hand, she heard several faint _boos_ from the crowd. She narrowed her eyes and quickly drew her sword, darting in to attack him with as much ferocity and agility as she could muster, buying herself time until she could feel her hand again. When her left hand recovered a little, she skipped nimbly away from his swinging ax, sheathing her sword and seizing her staff. Hearing him come after her, she dropped into a pike position, giving him the option to break off his charge or be speared in the gut. He batted the staff away, and she swung with it, bringing it around to slash at his side.

They went on in this manner for some time, before finally Dwalin called a halt.

Billa was wearing a grin to match Dwalin's as he clapped her on the back. She overheard murmurs on the wind as the dwarves, many of whom looked to be the old warriors come to train the hobbits, evaluated her skill.

"...hardly a warrior, but well enough in a pinch..."

"-scrappy little thing, tough despite her soft upbringing-"

"... made this progress when you tied it into _dancing?"_

 _"..._ Took down three of those filthy _khuzdul_ slavers, and then guided the little ones to safety." That sounded like Nori, Billa thought, with a smidgen of khuzdul curses spattered throughout. "My little sister Lori was there, she told me all about it." Billa observed with a smile how Nori was carefully standing with his back to his family as he regaled his tale. Despite his perceived indifference to them, he was standing where they could overhear every word. Dori was torn between fussing over Nori and scolding Lori. Ori was in an adorably awkward stage, and she realized with pity and amusement that he never seemed to grow completely out of it.

Nori was still talking. "Oh, yes, she first scouted out the camp, giving us the exact numbers of those _khuzdul_ slavers and then the number of younglings. She sent them a message to keep them calm, and then waltzed into the camp when the slavers slept, and got the children out," he continued. He saw Billa watching, and winked at her before sending a glance to Dwalin.

Billa realized with a blush that Nori was doing for her what she had done for Dwalin- talking him up and telling embellished versions of her heroics. Dwalin snickered at her discomfort.

"Billa Baggins, Defender of the Innocent and Protector of the Weak," he whispered in an undertone, clearly viewing this as revenge. She gave him a mock-glare. Then Thorin was there, offering his arm.

She took it, a little bewildered, and nervous despite herself. She felt her ears flush and saw his smirk when he noticed it too. Nevertheless, he didn't tease her.

"We should probably demonstrate some of the hobbit dances," he told her softly, remaining a respectable distance away from her ears even as he whispered. "So they know what to expect for their new students."

That made sense, Billa thought, a little befuddled. She shook off her confusion resolutely, and focused on the steps. This was not the time to be loosing her head!

Dwalin thumped out a rhythm with his foot, even as he produced a violin. The first few strains of a rousing hobbit dance spilled into the air, and Billa felt her nerves melt away. This would be fun!

And it was. Thorin was an excellent partner, and his boots never so much as stubbed her toes. Furthermore, he didn't do anything to make her nervous or blush again. Thorin's eyes were warm, with smile-wrinkles around them, and his hair was mussed and his cheeks were flushed, and Billa thought he was beautiful. He smiled and laughed with her, and they spun together through several dances before Dwalin put his violin away and they skipped to a reluctant stop, still gripping hands for a few moments after the music ended.

Before he moved away, Thorin tucked a stray hair behind her ear, careful not to brush against it, and then let his fingers brush gently against her cheek. Billa couldn't help but beam at him, and he returned with a crooked smile of his own. Then he was turning away, moving amongst his dwarves and listening and nodding, and Billa stifled a sigh, momentarily bereft.

Then she mustered herself and invited them all in for luncheon. Dwalin, Nori and even Balin made the rounds, laying down her rules, Billa supposed. Whatever they said, Billa had very well-behaved guests, even if most of them preferred to speak in Khuzdul.

Her other dwarves mingled, but Bifur kept close to her, and Billa used him as a gauge of those conversations she couldn't understand. As long as he was smiling gently, it couldn't be that bad. There was one instance where Bifur's expression shifted into a glare, and he had _stared_ at a particular dwarf with searing intensity until the dwarf had looked over, noticed, and promptly backed off. Then Bifur was all smiles again, and Billa was too.

Nori circulated around the edges, listening carefully, nonchalantly, to most conversations, and dropping stories and comments into groups. He moved like a shadow, from one group to the next, and Billa smiled to see it, even though most dwarves sent her speculative looks after Nori joined their group. _Defender of the Innocent and Protector of the Weak, indeed,_ she thought, not without humor.

Dwalin seemed to stick with the most war-like of the group, telling war-stories and comparing scars. Balin stayed near Thorin, and Thorin sat at the head of the table while the others moved around him. He held court, Billa thought fondly, even if he hardly said a word. Comments were addressed to him, and bows which he returned with regal nods and occasionally, tiny smiles. Billa noticed his subjects always seemed a bit surprised at the smiles, but would quickly hide it. They seemed to take their cue from the king, relaxing a little more, and it warmed Billa's heart to see it.

She served blackberry pies, and pretended not to notice the misty eyes and cleared throats of the older dwarves. Then she made her way over to Dori, Ori, and Lori and proceeded to sink her hooks into them, too.

"Mister Dori, do you mind if I sit here?" she asked sweetly, gesturing to the seat beside him. Lori looked at her and grinned.

"Lady Billa!" she said happily before turning back to her dessert. Dori quickly nodded.

"You know, Mister Dori, I've been looking for a tailor, as I tend to blend Dwarvish and Hobbitish styles. I was admiring one of Mister Nori's shirts and he informed me that it was actually you, sir, who had made it. I wonder, would you be willing to take a small commission for me?" she asked, knowing that the combination of her admiration, Nori's praise, and her gold would be too much for him to resist.

She was right. They made arrangements to meet again this week after Dori got a look at hobbit styles, and discuss more then.

Then Billa made her move for Ori. "You know, Mister Dori," she said bashfully, pitching her voice lower. "I asked Mister Nori to help find me something of a translator as well as executive assistant, someone who can help me translate parts of my library as well as document all of the changes we've been making. I've also noticed there's a definite chasm between dwarf literature and hobbit literature, and I've been looking for someone to help translate stories and transcribe histories, to help us get to know each other," she explained.

Dori was shooting glances at Ori, and Billa could see Ori's hands trembling as he tried to appear as if he wasn't listening hopefully.

"Mister Nori informed me that his brother, Mister Ori, was particularly gifted with languages, story-telling, history and even art. If you wouldn't mind terribly... could I borrow Mister Ori for a few days each week? In exchange for his help translating and documenting, I'd be happy to teach him all I know of languages, and history. Mister Balin's been giving me history lessons, and it would be wonderful to have someone else to discuss them with," she finished earnestly.

Billa knew that this sealed the deal. On her own, she was an unknown factor. Was she skilled, or was she particularly useless? They had no way to know. But if _Balin, adviser to the king_ was giving her lessons and she was willing to share those lessons with Ori, then it would definitely be worth the risk.

Dori and Ori quickly agreed and Billa grinned. Things were falling into place. Even if Thorin and Dwalin weren't going to be here this winter, she'd still have her dwarves.

No matter what happened, Billa Baggins was strong. She'd be okay.


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

According to my plans, Thorin's not gonna kiss her until after the end of Winter. That is very clearly written in my plans! And then, well, this chapter happened. Enjoy!

 _the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 41

In the first three days after the dwarves arrived, things were busy.

Dwalin oversaw the first hobbit 'dance' classes and tweaked the lessons as necessary, using Iglishmek to guide the dwarf teachers as they got used to their very innocent, very cheerful new students. Dwalin made sure to talk up the teachers to his fan clubs and share as many hobbit-appropriate heroic stories as he could create.

Thorin spent most of the time either down at the smials or up in Bag End's study, making arrangements and laying out plans. Billa often accompanied him, with Bifur or Nori trailing after her just as Balin trailed after Thorin.

Each night, Billa would take an hour or so to visit the pubs and check up on things. One night, she convinced Thorin to accompany her. As they entered the pub on the main road (one of the best pubs if you wanted news of the outside world) Billa secured a table to listen while Thorin went to buy the drinks.

As she was sitting, a Breeman staggered over to sit at her table, obviously drunk. Billa wrinkled her nose in distaste, even as she noted that he was one of the pony ostlers that rode often between Bree and the Shire, exchanging ponies and horses at the inns. They came into some of the pubs occasionally, but most of them knew to keep to themselves and not cause any trouble. This one didn't, apparently.

He leered at her, and she sneered at him, clearly disinterested and hoping he would go away. His look of appreciation turned into a scowl at her rejection, and he reached over a grimy, unwelcome hand to tweak her ears. She smacked his hand away. Over his shoulder, Billa could see Thorin at the bar, looking furious and ready to storm to the rescue and possibly disembowel the drunken man.

 _Males!_ she thought grumpily. The Breeman's scowl turned uglier and he heaved himself upright and came over to her side of the table, towering over her and grabbing her by the shoulder as his other hand came up to grope at her ears. She snarled and jerked her staff up between his legs. He yelped and crumpled to his knees, whereupon she kicked his face with her large, furry feet and he tumbled away, moaning on the floor. Everyone in the pub turned at the noise to stare, both quiet hobbit-folk and a corner booth with more Breemen. Thorin froze where he stood, halfway between her table and the bar, drinks in one hand and another hand on his sword pommel.

"Anyone else," she said through gritted teeth as she stared down the room, "think it's appropriate to touch a hobbit's ears _against her wishes?"_ she spat. She caught a glimpse of tri-corn hair braids through a window and heard a familiar, quiet snicker. _Nori._ Then noise swelled again, and Billa was surrounded by hobbits wishing to check if she was okay. One of the ostlers came over while the others dragged the prone man's body away, and bashfully offered apologies. Billa released him after he promised to keep a watch whenever he was drinking in the future, and come to a lady's defense should she ever need it.

After the fervor calmed down and Thorin came to stand by her, offering her a drink.

"Errr...Billa," he said uncertainly, looking at his boots. "Did I... Were my advances as unwelcome or ... as inappropriate as that Man's?" he asked quietly, shyly.

Billa blushed at the memory of his lips and breath in the drawing room.

"I-. Er," she started, looking down at her toes and wiggling them in flustration. "That is to say, they were highly _improper_ , but..." she darted a glance at him. He was staring at her with intense blue eyes, hanging on her every word. Was he closer than he had been? Was it warm in here?

She glanced away again and cleared her throat. "But... I-." Why was this so hard to admit? "They were not, um," her toes were truly, spectacularly well-groomed. And the wood flooring was particularly detailed, despite its age. "That is...Um..." She was sure her face was blushing. She glanced at him again and he was starting to look worried.

She swallowed heavily. Thorin didn't deserve to be kept in suspense, so if words failed her, actions would have to do. She grabbed the drink from his hand and plopped it onto the table with hers. Then, she grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the the pub and into the shadows. He stumbled after her, holding her hand tightly and looking by turns concerned and hopeful. She pulled him out of sight, into some tall bushes. She glanced up at him, his face lit by moonlight. He looked fond but his brow was furrowed in confusion as well.

"Billa?" he asked gently. She swallowed again, still clutching his hand with one of hers. Then she reached up and tangled her fingers in his short beard, and tugged his face down to her level. He gasped, his face close to hers, his eyes wide and his thin, soft-looking lips open with his white teeth peeking out. Their breath mingled, misty in the cold night air. She bit her lip as her eyes flickered between his eyes and his mouth.

She could hear drums pounding in the distance- or was that her heart? The large, strong hand she was holding in hers moved to hold her wrist, caressing her skin gently as his other arm wrapped around her, his forearm across her back but his fingers dipping under her hair to stroke the nape of her neck. She felt tingles spreading all across her body from where he was touching her, and felt her knees start to tremble. Her hand moved to lay flat against his cheek, petting it gently, awed at the smoothness of his cheek and the softness of his beard.

Then she lifted up on the tips of her toes, and pressed her lips to his. It was soft, sweet, and it filled Billa with a warm kind of euphoria. Her lips caressed his, and he nuzzled his nose against her cheek, seemingly content to let her have her way with him.

She pulled back until she was a breath away, an irrepressible smile upon her face. "Thorin," she whispered before leaning back in to kiss him again.

"Billa," he murmured, tightening his arms around her. She couldn't stop smiling, and it quickly became harder to kiss him because her lips kept pulling up into a smile. He seemed to share her problem, grinning at her and nuzzling his face against hers and sighing her name. "Billa... Billa... My Billa," he rumbled quietly as he pressed their cheeks together.

Billa gathered her courage and moved her hand from his cheek and up to tug gently at his braids, and stroke through his hair and then- _then!_ she carefully, _daringly_ ran the tip of her finger just along the shell of his rounded ears. _Aren't I bold?_ she thought giddily. He hummed agreeably in her ear.

"Such liberties you take, my little princess," he whispered teasingly, his hands moving to grip her waist. Billa felt impossibly small next to his muscular, sturdy body, but she also felt incredibly safe. "Shall I take the same?" he growled playfully.

Billa grinned and turned her head ever slightly to the side, giving him access to one of her slim, pointed ears. "No lips, my king," she informed him, as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Just hands" she said. He smiled, and one hand wrapped around her to bring her flush against his chest while the other delved into her hair, sometimes stroking the long, curly strands, sometimes tracing his fingers down the slender lines of her neck, and sometimes fondling the tips and then the lobes of her ear.

Billa clung to him, pressing her face into his neck and making tiny gasps against his skin as he obeyed her direction. One of her hands crept up and copied his movements through his hair, down his neck, and around his ears while the other clung to his arm, leaning on his rock-hard strength admiringly and wonderingly.

After several minutes of this exquisite torture, Billa pulled herself firmly away, and Thorin let her go, moving his arms down to her waist while both of her hands came up to grip at his arms. They were both breathing unsteadily, and Billa groaned before leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his chest.

"We should get back," she murmured quietly, her heart still pounding. She could feel his own steady pulse thrumming, and it pleased her in some primal, affectionate way.

He hmmed, rumbling deeply as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. Her hands slipped up to wrap around his neck, taking solace in his embrace.

"Aye," he whispered finally, after several moments of this new wonderful closeness. "Let's get back."

Slowly, reluctantly, they moved apart, Billa smiling giddily while Thorin's lips quirked undeniably upwards.

"After you, Princess," he teased quietly, holding back the branches of the bush so they could escape.

"My thanks, your Majesty," she rejoined fondly. He huffed quietly, amused.

He offered her his arm, and she took it happily, and they ambled amiably up to Bag End. He walked her to her door, whereupon he swooped down and kissed her nose. She laughed and seized his braids before he could escape, and tugged his face down so she could do the same.

With a shyly murmured _goodnight_ , they walked into their separate rooms.

Neither of them noticed Nori at the end of the hall, doing a victory dance in the shadows on socked feet.

* * *

As she closed the door behind her, Billa thought she might burst with happiness. Her heart was fluttering and her mind was whirling and she wished she could burst into song without disturbing her sleeping guests.

As it was, she twirled in a happy little circle, laughing to herself and giggling. She threw herself onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling with a radiant smile and then she sighed happily.

"I have never been so happy in all my life!" she squealed quietly. "I kissed him! And he kissed me! and it was _Thorin!_ Oh, Thorin," she sighed again, clutching a pillow to her heart. All of the feelings that had been swirling around her soul, centered on him for the past eighty decades finally coalesced out of confusion and into clarity.

"My stars, Thorin Oakenshield," she murmured dazedly. "I think I might love you."


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Random Recommendation: I have been enamored by phanton-lass's The Goblin Queen, which features fem!Bilbo as the queen of the Goblins in the Misty Mountains. My favorite _favorite_ part ? (Spoiler) SHE AND AZOG HAVE AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE! Oh, gosh, somehow Azog is made believably adorable, even when he's sending her mutilated bodies as tokens of affection. I really, truly, desperately want her to write the story of Bilbo and Azog's 'courtship'. Forget about Smaug and the dwarves, I just want more Bilbo/Azog! Seriously, go read it. It's awesome. _It will change your life!_ Kind of. You may suddenly find monstrous, murderous orcs to be mildly attractive and oddly endearing. You've been warned.

Note: I haven't been writing, because I got distracted. Reading about Guy of Gisborne, distant relative of Thorin's, and every time I settled down to write, I imagined Guy in armor and black leather, being wicked and devious and misguided and handsome, instead of Thorin. How could I write Thorin when I was thinking Guy? Then, I got caught up in Pride and Prejudice, and read that for several days. Finally, today I was reading Dante's Inferno, and since that has no handsome main characters, I was able to write in peace. Huzzah!

 _On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 42

Thorin stifled a pained groan as he dismounted the pony. He had been on the road for a week, accompanied by Dwalin, several guards, and the wagons of supplies from the Shire. He'd been riding all this time, and his back ached because of it. This time, there were no hearty, tasty meals with too many greens cooked by handsome hobbit ladies who gathered their ingredients on the road. This time, there was dried meat, apples, and bread, as well as what little fresh meat they could hunt on the road. It was this disappointment, along with his aching back, that Thorin credited for his black mood.

 _It's the road and the food. It has nothing,_ he seethed to himself as he shot Dwalin a glare for clapping him on his sore back, _nothing at all to do with the halfling._

Then, he was sitting down with food in hand and there was nothing to _do_ except think of the halfling, his darling Billa, his hobbit princess. He gave a sigh, pretending that it sounded weary or brooding instead of merely forlorn. _A king is never_ _forlorn,_ he told himself half-heartedly. _Whether that's because he has no feelings, or because he abducts the object of his affections so as not to be forlorn without her, is up to debate,_ he thought with a wry huff of breath. Would that he _could_ kidnap Billa. Unfortunately, that would defeat the entire purpose of waiting the winter to see if they'd last.

Then the watch was set, and since he'd shared the watch last night, he got to sleep uninterrupted tonight. As he sprawled in his bedding, sword near at hand, he gazed up at the stars and thought of that magnificent creature who had softened his heart and changed his life.

He'd been furious to see her importuned, proud when she'd defended herself, and embarrassed when she'd made that comment about ears. A flicker of doubt had spread through him, and he'd wondered if his advances on her had been unwelcome, but she'd been too polite to say so, or afraid to say so because of his position and her inclusion in his family. He'd taken her aside and asked her, as humbly as he could, if he'd taken advantage of her. She'd stumbled and stuttered, and he felt his heart sink from embarrassment to agony, until she'd dragged him outside, pushed him into a bush, grabbed him by the braids and kissed him.

He gave another sigh, pretending it was a grumpy sigh and not a blissful sigh. Kings don't do blissful.

But, oh! how she'd kissed him. Gentle, and sweet, and soulful. And then they'd run their fingers through each other's hair, trailing their hands over ears and necks, stealing a few more kisses before setting back to Bag End. They'd strolled arm in arm under the stars, and Thorin had been too lost in her eyes to worry about where they were walking and yet somehow, he'd led them straight back to her home without a single detour. After she'd pecked an impertinent kiss on his nose, she'd skipped into her room and closed the door, and Thorin had gone to his own bed, sighing and smiling the whole way.

Their official goodbyes had been formal and officious, which was okay because they'd said goodbye thoroughly the night before on an evening picnic on top of Bag End. There had been wine, and pastries, and lots of laughter and teasing and kissing.

And now, here he was, cold, hungry, lonely and grumpy, on the road to Ered Luin as if he'd never deviated from the path between Bree and the Blue Mountains at all. As if there was no warm, welcoming, fruitful Shire that beckoned him, as if there was no laughing, loving princess who called him back, offering her heart and her devotion.

Thorin sighed again, gustily.

He fell asleep, thinking of the hobbit lass he wished was in his arms.

* * *

Dwalin grinned to himself as he watched Thorin, moping and sighing and trying to scowl. No matter how much he glared or grumbled, Thorin simply couldn't hide the truth from his oldest, closest friend. _No matter what he claims,_ Dwalin thought gleefully, _Thorin Oakenshield has fallen in love._

Dwalin smirked. Dis would be so delighted by this turn of events, and Dwalin had every intention of telling her so they could tease Thorin as much as possible.

Thorin sighed again, more gustily than ever, and Dwalin laughed heartily before trying to disguise it as a cough. The other dwarf on watch glanced at him with a wry smirk, and Dwalin could tell he was equally amused.

 _Thorin,_ Dwalin thought as he fought another chuckle rising from his chest, _is never going to live this down..._ Thorin sighed again, a sleepy, dreamy smile on his face. ... _Ever,_ Dwalin thought, grinning.


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

Loathe: to feel hate or disgust for.

Loath: not willing; reluctant.

The map in this chapter: blog. lefigaro. fr/hightech/ middle-earth-map. jpg

 _On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 43

Billa sighed tiredly. It had been a week since Thorin left, and she was missing him badly. She kept up with her lessons with Balin and Ori, made plots with Nori, commissioned a new wardrobe from Dori and generally stayed busy, but Thorin's absence weighed on her heavily, and the days seemed cold and gloomy.

Since the knives hadn't worked out so well and she only wore one ceremoniously, Thorin had forged her another piece for her walking stick: a blade that she could screw onto the end of her staff. It lengthened her reach and made her staff more deadly, and she practiced diligently to get used to it. She sparred with Bifur, Nori, and even Balin as often as she could.

Ori, she was teaching Sindarin, as well as Hobbit, Elf, and Mannish history. She set him to translating books from Westron to Khuzdul and Khuzdul to Westron. First was the flower book for Bifur, and then Ori translated a set of Dwarvish fairy tales into Westron. When Balin had protested her teaching Ori Sindarin, Billa had locked Ori and Balin in a closet and held a long conversation with Lithir in Sindarin. When she let them out, she glared at Balin for a moment and then spoke.

"Well, what were we speaking about?" she asked him pointedly. Balin scoffed.

"Obviously insulting us with that confounded pointy-ear," he said glowering at her. Billa looked at Ori and raised a commanding eyebrow.

Ori coughed and shuffled his toes, looking down. "Actually, Master Balin," he said softly, "Lady Billa asked Lithir how she liked it here, and how she was being treated. Lithir told her that although only Gimli and Lori really liked her, no one had been cruel or rude to her and that Nori was protective of her when necessary. She also said she was grateful to Lady Billa for letting her stay. Then, they made plans to make dinner together tonight, and Billa would teach Lithir how to make the strawberry tarts she likes so much, as well as the blackberry pies that you favor, sir," he said, eyes still fixed on the ground.

Balin's jaw worked angrily for a moment, torn. It irked Balin that such a promising young dwarf was learning _Sindarin,_ of all things, but Billa and Ori had just proven how useful such a skill was. And there would be blackberry pie tonight, for the first time in a week.

He let it go, and Billa didn't hear another complaint about it from Balin, although his eye twitched in vexation whenever he overheard their lessons. Billa smirked to herself when Nori reported that Balin began to take Ori aside for unofficial tutoring after each Sindarin session as if to counter-act any damage Billa might have done.

After making dinner with Lithir and learning that the elfling knew little of elvish history or culture, Billa realized that the elf had no official guardian and had no other elves to look up to or learn from. Something had to be done, and Billa would do it. As it happened, Lithir was a perfect excuse to begin writing to Lord Elrond, and hopefully start to foster a friendship between the Shire, her dwarves, and the elves of Rivendell.

 _Lord Elrond,_ Billa wrote thoughtfully in Sindarin, wishing she could begin with _Dear Elrond,_ as she used to in her old life when Elrond had been her friend and then host.

 _Please excuse my presumption in writing to you without formal introduction, but this is a matter of some import and you are the nearest authority of which I can think._

 _I am Billa Baggins of the Shire, and some time ago a few of our fauntlings were abducted by slavers. I and a party of dwarves who were staying as my guests rode out to rescue them. When we found and rescued them, there were three hobbits, two dwarves, and one elfling by the name of Lithir. It is on Lithir's behalf that I write to you._

 _Lithir has no family left, and has been staying with me in the Shire. She has formed friendships here, and is welcome to stay with me as long as she likes. I can teach her a little of your history and your stories, but I do not know how to raise an elfling, nor the private rites and magics of your people._

 _Lithir has become family, and I am loath to send her away. I am also loath to deny her the upbringing she deserves. What would you advise, sir? Is there some middle ground in this circumstance?_

 _Winter is upon us, and I do not think we could make the journey to seek your counsel in person at this time. However, I would be agreeable to hosting a small envoy, if you deemed it wise to send one to obtain a first-hand account of the situation. While I am sure my hospitality does not begin to rival the famed generosity and elegance of Rivendell, I can provide comfortable furnishings, excellent food, and as much or as little conversation as you might desire. If you chose that course, I would only advise that you send patient and level-headed representatives, as my dwarven guests are occasionally a little hot-headed._

 _In lesser matters, my dwarven guests have spoken briefly about dragons and made me curious, and the libraries of the Shire simply do not suffice. I have heard of the legendary warrior, Earendil, who defeated the dragon Ancalagon. Are there any other stories or books detailing dragons and their defeat?_

 _I have also heard stories of gold sickness. It seems a delicate subject, and I am reluctant to offend my guests by inquiring more closely. Do you know, sir, what gold sickness is and what it does?_

 _I hope this letter finds you in good health, and you will not think it impertinent._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Billa Baggins of Bag End,_

 _Bagshot Row, Hobbiton, The Shire_

Billa smiled to herself and read the letter over again. While she was fond of Lithir, her reluctance to send the elfling to Rivendell stemmed less from affection and more from a desire to force her dwarves to get over their animosity of all elves. It also gave her an excuse to write to Rivendell and hopefully, one day, to Mirkwood, and help to smooth the way for their future quest.

When Balin eyes the Sindarin letter suspiciously, Billa gritted her teeth. He'd been surprisingly hostile since Thorin left, and Billa's patience was thin.

"Would you prefer if I had Ori approve my private correspondence?" she asked, a little caustically.

Balin ignored her sarcasm. "That would be best," he said, and Billa refrained from rolling her eyes. Balin had once been her friend, coming to visit her in the Shire and bringing her news of the others. But in this lifetime, he had become increasingly antagonistic, and it was a little hurtful.

At first, Billa had had no intention of having Ori approve her letter. Then, she sat down and thought about it. _Last time, Ori seemed the only dwarf to truly appreciate the beauty of Rivendell. And he's a level thinker. I think if I explain what I am trying to do, he would understand. A second opinion is never a bad thing._

She began by showing him a map of Middle Earth, spanning from Ered Luin all the way across to the Iron Hills.

"Ori," she began, "Today will be a little different. Imagine you'd led a quest and stood at the gates of Erebor this very moment," she said. Ori swallowed uncertainly. "If you want to retake your homeland, what obstacles do you face at that very moment, the very first problem?"

"Dragon," Ori squeaked, and then blushed.

"Exactly," Billa nodded. "Say the dragon is defeated, and you reclaim Erebor. You first go down to the treasury, and it stretches a mile wide, filled deep with gold. What's your second problem?"

Ori looked down and shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to say it aloud. _Gold sickness._

Billa nodded again. "You don't have to say it, but we're both thinking it. Keep those two problems in mind. Now, where is Ered Luin?" she asked.

Ori immediately pointed it out.

"And where are we?" she asked. Ori unerringly found the Shire.

"And where is Erebor?" she asked. Again, Ori pointed.

"Do you know what route the dwarves took after the fall of Erebor?" she asked. Ori hesitated. "I know they were dark times, Mister Ori, and I am not revisiting this on a whim. Please, show me," she said.

Ori's finger trailed from Erebor, across the River Running, around the southern edge of Mirkwood, down past the Mirrormere and the Misty Mountains, through the Gap of Rohan, up into Dunland, past Moria, north around the Shire and finally west to Ered Luin.

"Good," Billa said. Now, Ori, if you were to lead a quest back to Erebor, what path would you take?" she asked.

He stared at the map for a while, uncertain. She could understand his hesitance.

The directest route went through Rivendell, across the Misty Mountains, and through Mirkwood. But, seeing as they distrusted the elves, that route was out.

If they went north, they went through the troll-infested Ettenmoors and came near to Mount Gundabad, an ancient dwarven kingdom that was now an orc stronghold.

If they went south, they'd pass by Moria where they'd lost so many in the battle of Azanulbizar. In Moria yet stalked Durin's Bane and it had, perhaps, been re-infested with goblins. Since they couldn't go through Moria, they'd have to go further yet south, down through the Gap of Rohan and up around Mirkwood, in the longest possible route to Erebor.

No, there weren't any easy options for a return trip to Erebor.

"There's no safe path," Billa said, and Ori nodded. "The shortest and most direct route takes you through elves, the next path through orcs, and the safest path is over three times as long as the other two options. Now, take the shortest route," she said, and Ori obediently traced from the Shire, through Rivendell and the High Pass, and straight through Mirkwood to Erebor.

"The first obstacle on that path, what is it?" she asked.

Ori tapped on Rivendell, and then blushed and looked at her apologetically. Ori knew she had no hatred for elves, and was embarrassed to show his distrust of elves in front of her. He'd read many of their stories and was learning their language, and was slowly beginning to think they weren't all bad. Still, Rivendell was definitely an obstacle.

"Yes, I agree," she said, surprising him. "The Rivendell route is the best choice, because you can restock your supplies, and rest in real beds in relative safety. However, it is an obstacle because of the distrust between elves and dwarves. What have I told you about enemies and allies?" she quizzed him.

"If you can make an enemy into an ally, you've destroyed an enemy and gained an ally," he recited. She nodded approvingly.

"Here, Ori," she said, turning away from the map and pulling the letter from her desk, "Read this letter. Balin wants you to confirm I'm not conspiring or any such nonsense. It's addressed to Lord Elrond, the Lord of the elves in Rivendell," she said, and Ori smiled shyly.

His brow furrowed, and he read the letter one, twice, and then a third time.

"Well, Ori?" Billa prompted. "What am I up to?"

"You're... befriending the elves, and trying to get them to come and bring information..." he said slowly.

"Which leads to...?" she led him.

His eyes widened. "You're trying to mend the rift," he whispered. "Re-make the alliance. Destroy this enemy and make them an ally, so that when the time comes to return to Erebor, we can take our rest at Rivendell safely, and perhaps have an answer for the dragon and the..." he trailed off meaningfully. _Gold sickness._

Billa smiled. "Precisely," she praised, "Very clever."

His brow furrowed again. "But after Rivendell, there's still..." _Mirkwood._

"Yes," Billa agreed. "That will take a little more planning and scheming on our part, whether we go straight through or have to go around. I'm hoping after correspondence is established with Rivendell, we can open correspondence with Mirkwood and feel things out. Never the less, the journey of a thousand miles-" she began.

"Begins with a single step," Ori and Nori finished in unison.

Ori's eyes widened to see his brother step silently into the room, and Billa grinned at her partner-in-crime. Nori smirked at them both.

"Well, Ori," Nori said, "Can you keep this plan to yourself and let Balin know that the letter is safe?" he asked, thus revealing that he'd been eavesdropping for some time.

Ori looked nervously at Billa, but relaxed when he saw her smiling mischievously at Nori, clearly not minding his spying.

"Yes Nori," Ori assented, pleased to be included in this plot. "I can do that."

* * *

Thorin was soaked to the bone, and freezing cold. It had been snowing relentlessly for the past three days, and they were forced to wade through waist-deep snowdrifts, leading their ponies and carving a path through the snow with their bodies so the wagons could pass. It was miserable going. They were hungry, and starting to sicken.

However, they had pressed on and today, Thorin knew, they would arrive at Ered Luin.

Four hours later, the sun was setting and they finally made it. The pristine white snow turned to grey slush, and the road cleared as they rode into the little town clustered around the gate into the Blue Mountains. The horses were left with ostlers at a stable, and the wagons were dragged by the dwarves themselves into the gates of Ered Luin.

Here, there was no gold nor jewels to work with as in Erebor, nor true-silver as in Moria. Here was iron, and though it did not bring them great wealth, mining and shaping it allowed them a livelihood and a little shelter in the mountains. This place was cold, dim, and harsh after the soft warmth of the Shire. In comparison to Erebor, they were poor lodgings in exile*, but any lodgings were better than nothing.

Thorin sighed as he dragged a wagon, Dwalin pulling at his side, down the long, rough-hewn wall. A few dwarves saw them coming, and either lumbered away to share the news, or came closer to lend a hand.

The rations were brought to the store-room, and Bombur and his wife, Lorida were reunited there and put in charge of unloading and cataloging all the goods. They would report to Dis when they were done, who would keep an official record of it. Billa had told him she had sent some specific gifts for Dis, Fili and Kili among the wagons, and that such gifts would be clearly marked. Bombur would set aside those, and make note of them, and Thorin would see them properly delivered- later, after a bath and a hot meal and a long night's sleep.

His bones aching, his boots squelching with each step, and his fingers numb, he made his weary way to the 'royal quarters'. They were far different from the golden extravagance of Erebor, or the elegant comfort of Bag End. They only differed from common housing in that the royal quarters were suites, not rooms, and had guards stationed out front.

As he made his way down the royal hallway, from which the royal suites branched, he saw the door next to his own open, and a dwarf on a wheeled chair clumsily made his way out of the room. The dwarf's arms were as strong and powerful as ever, and the blond hair long and well-groomed. The legs, however, were disturbingly skeletal, as they'd been ever since the blonde dwarf had taken a blade to the back during the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Thorin grinned to see him, and felt his spirits rising when the dwarf looked up and grinned, too. The dwarf often suffered from depression, but it seemed that today was a good day.

"Frerin!" he exclaimed, and ran down the hallway, squelching loudly. He bent over and gripped his brother's forearms firmly, and they slammed their foreheads together despite the odd angle. Thorin went a step further and bent to embrace his brother, ignoring his withered legs and his thin cheeks, or the way the wheeled chair rolled slightly back from his advance.

"Thorin!" Frerin said affectionately as Thorin pulled away. "It's good to see you, brother. What's this I hear about the Shire?" he asked, the smile still faint on his lips.

"I'm frozen to the bone, and disheveled besides," Thorin said, still gripping one of Frerin's forearms. He was loath to release his brother, whom he'd not seen in four months, and not seen smiling for nearly twice as long. "But I'd like nothing more than to tell you. Will you care for my hair as I bathe, Frerin?" he asked. "I'm afraid my fingers are numb and I can't quite manage."

Frerin blinked, obviously surprised at the vulnerability Thorin betrayed by his request, and Thorin felt hope rising. He'd learned a lot in the Shire, and hoped that taking a page from Billa's book of tactics would work on his brother. Frerin hadn't been the same since he lost the use of his legs, and the normal stoic interaction between warriors, which was all either of them knew, simply wasn't enough anymore and Frerin had slipped slowly but surely into isolation, unable to spar, uncomfortable in the crowds, and hardly ever leaving his room. However, Thorin had learned in the Shire that asking for help didn't mean you were weak- it showed trust and respect, and he hoped he could thaw Frerin's pride like Billa had thawed his own. He waited anxiously, wondering what Frerin would do.

Frerin's mouth tipped up into another smile. "Very well," Frerin acquiesced, and Thorin grinned in elation.

"Do you mind if I lean on your chair?" Thorin asked, pushing his luck.

Frerin, still in a good mood, laughed and easily turned the chair around so Thorin could lean on the back, pushing it a little.

"I suppose your fingers are too numb to open the door?" he teased.

Thorin laughed too. "As you say," he admitted as Frerin easily opened the door and held it open as Thorin pushed him in.

Frerin wheeled his way over to the bathtub and got the water running, as Thorin set down on his bed and fumbled at his clothes. He managed to get his scarf, gloves, and hat off, and wrestled off his jacket and tunic, but his boot laces were beyond him. His fingers were burning now, as they thawed, and his face felt the same.

Frerin rolled back over, and batted Thorin's ineffectual hands away from his boots. "Give them here," he commanded, in a way he hadn't since he'd lost the use of his legs. Thorin obeyed.

"I feel ridiculous," he admitted. Frerin glanced up at him sharply.

"Because you need the help of a cripple?" he said bitterly, his smile gone and his fingers pausing on the laces. _How did Billa react when I was offended?_ Thorin tried to remember. _Oh yes, she either apologized, or laughed at me._

Thorin snorted at Frerin. "Hardly a cripple. I remember the way you trounced Dwalin on Durin's Day last year when he dared you to an arm-wrestle," he said, smirking. "I feel ridiculous," Thorin repeated, "because the last time I needed help to unlace my boots was back in our teens when I broke my-"

"-hand because I smashed it with Father's hammer when we snuck into the forges at midnight and tried to lift it!" Frerin interjected, sniggering. They grinned at the memory of mischief, and Frerin was smiling again.

Thorin let go of his pride for the rest of the night and unashamedly leaned on his brother getting in and out of the tub. He told Frerin about the little hobbit lass who saved Kili from a gang of Men and threw a sack of gold at his head, and everything that came after.

When his hair was clean and braided and a still-smiling Frerin showed himself out, Thorin thought that maybe the best thing from the Shire wasn't food for the winter, or shelter for his dwarves. Maybe, the best thing was learning how to show vulnerability from Billa's example so he could make his brother feel like a dwarf and a brother again, instead of a cripple.

As he shrugged his now-warm body into clean sleeping clothes and settled onto his clean, soft bed, Thorin let out a long sigh. He wrapped the covers more tightly around his body, and looked up towards the ceiling, through the blackness of the room.

"Thank you, Billa," he whispered, closing his eyes to imagine her face and her warmth here beside him. "Wait for me, please... I'll be back in the spring."


	44. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 44

Billa growled irritably as she paced around her office. Elrond's letter had arrived a few days previous, perfectly courteous and non-committal. He invited her to bring Lithir to Rivendell and to browse his library for a few weeks while he talked to Lithir about her future. Billa had been stung by the coldness of the letter, used to the warmth of his friendship, a friendship that he no longer remembered. In a fit of pique, she decided she'd bring Lori, Ori and any other dwarves she could convince to come, just to put Elrond's nose out of joint.

It was childish, and she knew it, but she was grumpy and lonely and cold and tired. Winter was a hard time for hobbits, who loved the sun and its warmth. It had been snowing for three days, and it was too cold to venture outside for long. So, Billa was stuck inside with only a snide Balin and a quiet Lithir for company. Lithir at least could walk above the snow, and so braved the outdoors often to visit Lori and Gimli. Billa envied her.

Billa had spent the days re-translating her favorite works into Sindarin and cooking, for there wasn't much else to do. She had read everything in her smial already in her two lifetimes, and without her friendly dwarves around to keep her busy she was falling into a malaise. She had paced the whole of her smial. It was thirteen hobbit-paces from one end of her office to the other. It was only nine Balin-paces, though. She had hidden and watched as he paced to get an accurate count. Using that fraction as a guide, she had calculated Balin-paces for the rest of the smial as well. Unfortunately, that had only taken up a few hours this morning, and now there was nothing left to do.

Restless, her hand fell to the ceremonial throwing knife that Thorin had given her. She glanced around, warily. Balin was in his room, and the door to the office was closed. No one would see. _He only said not to use it on anything,_ she reasoned to herself. _That means no throwing it at things, no using it to cut things, and no threatening people with it. I won't use it... I'll just..._ familiarise _myself with it._

She held it so the blade sat in her hand, the pointy tip pinched between her fingers. She had seen Fili and Nori do things like this with their knives. She tossed it into the air and caught it by the hilt, rather clumsily. She tried again.

And again.

After thirty minutes, there were several tiny cuts on her fingers but she had made some progress. Now, though, she was tired and bleeding and hungry, and she had to stop before she threw the knife in frustration. So, she took a snack break, eating the last of the blackberry preserves (she had sent most of her stock with Thorin. The rest, she had taken to childishly hiding from Balin. If he didn't want to be a good guest, she only had to be an average host. No blackberry preserves for him!) and licking her sticky fingers clean.

Then she spent another half hour, this time throwing the knife with her _left_ hand. Predictably, it didn't go well. She hissed as she pressed down on the bleeding digit, waiting for the copious blood-flow to slow. _Next time,_ she promised herself, _I'll practice with gloves._

* * *

Bombur winked at his wife who stared, disbelieving, at the tiny mountain of goods which stood apart from the Shire-food, clearly marked for THORIN SON OF THRAIN. There were four smaller piles next to it for Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and Dis, but Thorin's pile was larger than all of the individual piles combined.

"You should have seen him on the road here," he whispered in her ear, "Sighing for that lass like a love-sick calf."

Lorida gaped at him, trying to imagine such an impossible sight. "This..." she tried, pointing to the pile. "This is quite the courting gift!" she exclaimed. "Twenty barrels of precious blackberry preserves, Bombur, can you imagine? Twenty! And sixteen kegs of wine! What is he going to do with it all? And the knitting! Four scarves, two hats, three sets of gloves and seven pairs of the warmest, softest socks I've ever seen. Did you see the map she included, on such fine parchment, stretching from Erebor all the way out here to Ered Luin? And the books!-"

"Yes, my love," Bombur said happily, "And the books, and the writing set, and some seat-cushions as well. Isn't wonderful?"

"It's just so hard to believe," Lorida said, bewildered. "He's crossed miles and miles of the world and met with thousands of people. We'd all but given up that he'd ever find his lodestone. Are you really quite sure it isn't just some wild misunderstanding? These could be obeisance, for all we know, instead of a courting gift," she said anxiously.

Bombur grinned. "Now my love, let me tell you that it's quite for certain. I was passing by one of the Shire-pubs, on a night just before we left, and I saw, as clear as I see that pile now, Miss Billa dragging Thorin out of a pub and into the bushes, and when they came out a half hour later, for I stayed to keep watch, you know, didn't want them to be disturbed, their cheeks were as pink as can be, and their hair mussed besides. There's no doubting it. Our king has met his match, found his magnetite, fallen in love!"

Bombur danced gleefully on his toes for a moment before sweeping his wife into his arms.

"Isn't it wonderful, Lorida? Oh, I bless the day Billa Baggins came to Bree. I feel like the whole world's been turned upside down just for us, and the hard times are soon to be over. Oh, Lorida, there are brighter days ahead!" Bombur said, clutching his wife tightly.

Lorida, tears in her eyes, clutched him back.

* * *

When Bombur tendered his report to the Lady Dis, she made him verify it verbally, and then requested to see it in person. Bombur hid his smile behind his mustache as he watched Lady Dis ignore the large store of grain and supplies, heading straight for Thorin's little mountain.

"Bombur," she called after a moment, and Bombur swiftly stifled his smile as he came to her side.

"Yes, my lady?" he asked.

"See that these gifts are delivered to His Majesty's room," she said.

"And the smaller piles to their respective rooms as well?" he hedged.

"No," she said quickly, her lips turning up. "Deliver all the gifts, including Dwalin's, to Thorin's rooms. My brother is attending to court matters today, and will be all afternoon. See that it is done before he returns," she said sharply.

"To hear is to obey, Lady Dis," Bombur said with a bow. Dis swept regally out of the room, and Bombur grinned. Lady Dis agreed with him- these were definitely courting gifts!

* * *

When Thorin returned to his room, he had spent a long day in a hard chair, poring over reports and listening to complaints. Dis had done well in his absence, as she always did, but many preferred to hold their troubles until the King returned. While this was understandable, it meant that he was always swamped with problems the moment he returned. His shoulders ached from stooping over his desk, and he thought longingly of the soft upholstered chairs of Bag End. _The hobbits had the right of it,_ he thought miserably. _Comfort and food instead of halls of stone._

He put a hand over his face as he reached his rooms, massaging his temples and resting his eyes as he opened the door and entered. He promptly tripped, falling like a stone and swearing foully.

"What the-." He stopped, staring in wonder. His room was filled to the brim with things that looked... vaguely... familiar. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.

"That's..." he trailed off. "That's Billa's wine. And her blackberries," he whispered, his heart suddenly pounding. The walls were hidden from view and barrel upon barrel, keg upon keg were stacked up high. His bed, too, was covered.

"Scarves... and gloves, and hats, and socks," he whispered, his hands rubbing them, marveling at the softness. "Oh, my sweet Billa."

He took in the map, and the books, and the set of fine quills, and he laughed happily.

Then, he saw the cushion covers, and he picked them up carefully, squeezing them in his hands. "Ahhhh," he sighed, imagining how it would feel to sit on them tomorrow. "Ah, my Billa, you sweet, sweet girl," he murmured to himself.

He saw the gifts for Fili and Kili and Dwalin and Dis, and grinned. He snatched up a set of his own socks, hat, scarf and gloves for Frerin, and went to deliver Billa's gifts.

"She's wonderful," he said later as he presented the soft, knit things to Frerin. "As sweet as sunshine in the spring and as fierce as a summer storm. I can't wait for you to meet her, Frerin," he said. Frerin rolled beside him, accompanying him back to Thorin's own room.

"She sounds lovely," Frerin said, a little placatingly. Then, Thorin opened the door, and Frerin saw the extend of Billa's generosity and devotion. He swallowed, eyes wide, visibly impressed.

"She sounds lovely," he said again, and this time, he meant it.


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 45

Billa sat at her desk, her head plopped onto her fist, and stared unseeingly out of the window. It had been four days since the blizzard started, and she had run out of things to do. Her hands were knicked and cut and tender from her knife practice, but she could think of nothing else to do. She had knitted, and read, and inspected her stores, and pored over her maps, and _measured the walls_ and there was nothing else she could think of to do.

Winter was a time to be spent with family. If Thorin, Fili or Kili or Dis were here, there would have been baking and cooking and singing and games. Lithir had more interest in walking atop the snowdrifts to visit Bifur (who had been caught at the dwarven Smials when the blizzard began) than playing winter-time games with Billa. And Balin... Billa preferred to ignore Balin, and he seemed content to return the favor.

Billa sighed again, staring disconsolately out into the swirling snow, when a dark blur began to materialize through the snow.

She blinked, disbelieving. _Am I finally mad?_ she thought curiously as the blur grew larger and closer. She blinked again, and the blur morphed into two forms.

It was Lithir, walking atop the snowdrifts with a rope around her waist, leading a trudging, huffing dwarf behind her. _Is that..._ "Bifur!" Billa cried joyfully.

She sprung up from her desk and bolted to the mudroom, putting on her coat and moccasins before dashing out into the biting cold.

Lithir and Bifur were now on her back porch, both looking winded and ruddy-cheeked.

"Bifur! Lithir!" Billa cried as she rushed to embrace them. "Why ever did you risk the weather? Come! Come inside before you freeze solid!Oh, Bifur, it's one thing for Lithir on top of the snow-drifts, but you had to wade through them! You're entirely encrusted in snow, and wet to boot," Billa said frettingly as she herded them indoors. Bifur laughed.

"Bifur was worried about you," Lithir explained. "He knew you would be lonely, and insisted I lead him up here. He said something about ...games?" she asked the last part hesitantly, as she had no clue what Bifur meant.

Despite the blizzard, Billa's heart melted. "Games..." she sighed happily.

"These games haven't seen the light of day in more decades than I care to remember," she said as she led them into the living room where a large fire blazed warmly. Bifur immediately stationed himself before the fire, sighing in pleasure, while Billa went to find her family's Midwinter games.

 _This is what a family feels like,_ Billa thought smilingly. Then she passed Balin in the hallway, and she felt a rush of pity. _Balin hasn't got any family left,_ she remembered. _All he's got is Thorin... And Thorin is far away while he's stuck here with me._ A pang of compassion and understanding flooded through her.

"Come, Mister Balin," she said in her sternest Dis-like voice. "We have need of you in the living room."

Balin started to huff and protest, but Billa swelled up to her full size, put her hands on her hips, and glared at him with all the fire she could muster. " _You'll come and you'll like it!"_ she hissed like a pint-sized dragon.

Balin stared for a moment with wide eyes, completely taken aback. Then, he slowly nodded in acceptance, and Billa's ire melted away into a smile.

* * *

After a rousing game of Charades and several other Midwinter games, the fire was dying out and the four inhabitants of Bag End were drowsy and tired. Billa herself was asleep, tucked between Bifur and Lithir, with her head resting on Bifur's shoulder. Balin was sitting on Bifur's other side, eyes fluttering as he neared sleep. Lithir reached across Billa to prod Bifur, who woke with a start, and then grinned at her.

Carefully, Bifur got up and gently reclined Billa until her head was on Balin's lap. Balin gave a skeptical look, but Bifur returned his gaze steadily and made a few quick hand gestures. Balin sighed and turned his head away, but let Billa rest.

Bifur and Lithir shared a smile as snuck back out of the smial.

* * *

When Billa woke, she was warm and toasty, with a musty scent in her nose.

 _Dwarves,_ her mind identified drowsily, as she snuggled a little closer. Then awareness returned and her eyes blinked open. She took in the scene with surprise.

The fire was nothing more than embers now, and the blizzard still hummed in the air, although the windows were dark. By the faint glow of the embers, she could see she was snuggled between Balin and Lithir, with Bifur on the far side of Lithir.

Billa smiled and closed her eyes. _A dwarven sleep pile,_ she thought happily. _I'm in a dwarven sleep pile with a politician, a stoneworker, a hobbit princess, and an elf. Surely there's a joke in here somewhere._

* * *

The next morning, Bifur and Lithir had a surprise for her.

"The blizzard may end any time, but there will surely be another one. And you can't ride down to the smial every time you need us, so Bifur devised something clever," Lithir explained in her lilting voice.

"What is this?" Billa asked, eyeing the contraption curiously. They were on the back porch, bundled in furs. Deeply driven into the ground was a large wooden pole, with a metal cap on the top, and a gear with a cord looping on it. The cord doubled around the gear and stretched out into the blizzard on two strands.

Bifur grinned and began to show her. He tugged on the top cord, hauling it in length over length, while the bottom cord shot away in equal measure. After a few moments, a cylindrical container appeared, attached to the cord by its middle. Bifur continued to haul until the container clanged against the metal cap of the wooden post, producing a loud, clear, resonant note that Billa knew she would be able to hear from anywhere in or around her smial.

Still mystified, Billa watched as Lithir stepped in and unscrewed a lid from the cylindrical container. She produced a sheaf of papers and handed them to Billa, who took them with wide eyes, understanding beginning to dawn on her.

The notes were all written in Ori's neat hand, in Westron or Sindarin- his homework. He'd also included notes of gratitude from the other dwarves. He'd written a letter for Nori, and Dori, and informed her that all was well. He'd also asked for more stories to translate.

"This way you don't have to be cut off in the blizzard," Lithir said quietly. Bifur patted Billa's shoulder and smiled, before herding her back into the smial.

Billa sniffled and wiped her eyes, and then clutched the papers to her chest.

"The rope goes both ways," Lithir said in the mudroom, as they took off their snowy boots and coats. Billa sniffled again and gathered first Lithir, and then Bifur into a hug. And then Balin, too, though he'd just happened to be passing by the hallway.

"You're the oddest family I've ever had, but I'm very glad I have you," she said solemnly, with still-streaming eyes.

Balin's cheeks turned pink, and he ducked his head. Bifur got a wide grin, and Lithir leaned into Bifur's shoulder with a peaceful smile on her face.

 _Yes,_ Billa thought as she sat in her office and tucked into her letters, _I'm very glad I have you._


	46. Chapter 46

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

 _Chapter 46_

The blizzard was over. Winter still held dominance and the cold was bitter, but the blizzard was followed by a brief thaw which turned the Shire into a mess of mud and muck. Since it had been mud-slides that had wrecked the old Smials which the dwarves had lately repaired and taken up residence in, everyhobbit had been instructed to keep an eye out for anything that looked like it could cause a mud-slide. When one was found, a team of dwarves and hobbits would take up shovels and go to try and solve the problem.

Billa went to supervise on the first such occasion, but was pleasantly surprised to see that the dwarves and hobbits were getting along very well, and so sent Nori in her stead to the mud-job after that. They both came home muddy, soaked, cold and weary, but no fights or mudslides occurred, so Billa considered the effort well worth it.

A week or two after she first introduced Ori to her plot to build better relationships with Rivendell, Billa had woken from a dead-sleep. She sat upright with a gasp as a brilliant idea burst into her brain. Desperate to get it settled and taken care of before it faded away, she exploded into action. She threw on a house-robe and a set of moccasins and dashed to her office where she wrote down a single sentence in a frenzy of smudged ink. Then, she ran out the back door and stuffed the message into Bifur's clever metal cylinder and hauled the cord hand over hand until she felt the resistance as it hit the other side. She jerked it back and forth a few times for good measure, so it would cling against the metal cap. Then she ran back inside to dress and start breakfast.

When Ori and Nori showed up at her door, breathless and red-cheeked from running all the way, she hugged them tightly and hauled them into the kitchen.

"I have it!" she cackled triumphantly as she waved a spatula at them. They stared cautiously and edged slowly towards the door.

She couldn't have that. "SIT!" she barked. They sat. She spooned some eggs onto their plates, and then paused to do a victory dance around the table. Ori and Nori watched her with wide eyes.

"It's genius!" she cackled again, an enormous grin splitting her face.

Ori and Nori exchanged looks, each thinking very different things. Nori was thinking, _It's nice to see her smile again. She hasn't been this animated since Thorin left._ Ori, on the other hand, was thinking, _Billa's gone mad!_

"Here's the plan!" she said with wide, crazed eyes as she sat down in front of them. "Ori, you've been learning so well that your Sindarin is about as good as I can make it. Lithir, too, needs a tutor, but she's comfortable here and Lori would be heartbroken if we sent her away. AND!" She exclaimed, shaking the spatula so hard that a bit of egg was flung onto Nori's face, "it serves our purpose to build stronger relations with the elves. There's such prejudice and ignorance on each side, that each acts with rudeness towards the other, and it merely perpetuates the problem. So! Here is what we are going to do!"

Billa paused to swallow down a mouthful of eggs, eating directly from the frying pan with the spatula as a spoon. Nori, wide-eyed, reached up to slowly wipe the egg off his face.

"We are going to break down the stereotypes so that by the time we get to Rivendell, it might be awkward to stay there, but at least it won't be hostile. To that effect, Ori, I need you to write a letter to Lord Elrond that I will include with my next letter. In your letter, you will proclaim that you want to learn more about Rivendell and the history of dwarves and elves working together, and if it wasn't too much trouble, would someone pretty please be your pen pal?" Billa batted her eyelashes for extra effect as she mimicked the sweetness of Ori's future letter.

"And then! Just in case they don't go for it, we will have Lithir include a message saying much the same, except she will add that she loves the Shire so much, and doesn't want to leave her new friends, but wants to learn more and so is studying with Ori, and so Elrond will know that if he wants to help Lithir, he will have to also help Ori. See?"

She grinned at them. Ori and Nori slowly blinked back, dazed by the barrage of information at the early hour. Displeased by their lack of reaction, Billa blazed on.

"It's very likely that Elrond will hand over the letters to someone he knows will be able to handle them, someone who is not overtly prejudiced against dwarves. We will milk them for information, get to know them, make friends, and when we are on our way to Rivendell, whether that's one week from now or one decade, we will make plans through that person who will ensure that our stay is much more to our liking.

"Elves don't really eat meat much, you know," she added seriously. "If we just showed up out of the blue, they would entertain us and feed us the way that THEY like to be entertained and fed, not the way that YOU like to be entertained and fed. Mutual knowledge of the other's preferences is vital to ensure peace."

Billa stopped again to gauge their reactions. Ori looked bewildered, but Nori was nodding his head with a wise expression.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

"Billa..." Nori said gravely, stroking his mustache with his forefinger and thumb.

"Yes?" she said hopefully.

"What I'm about to say may be very difficult for you to hear, Billa." he said sternly.

Billa bounced nervously in her seat. "Yes?" she said anxiously.

"Billa, it's two in the morning. Let's talk in the morning. Ori and I are going back to sleep now." Ori nodded gravely to support his brother's statement.

Billa's mouth fell open in surprise, and she whirled to face the clock. It was indeed two in the morning, and Billa blushed in mortification. When she turned to face Ori and Nori again to apologize, she found them both face down on the table, plates shoved to the side and heads resting on folded arms. She blinked once, surprised to see them so quickly asleep.

After a moment of watching, Nori began to snore.

Billa frowned, and looked down at the frying pan full of scrambled eggs that she had prepared in a hurry. Then she shrugged and took the pan into her office. She could have an early breakfast and scheme at the same time, couldn't she?

At 2:03AM, she started to draft the letters for Ori and Lithir to write. At 2:29, she pondered the different ways this plan could affect their future. Perhaps after a few letters, a tutor might come from Rivendell for a short stay? Perhaps after that, a very small party of hobbits, dwarves and a very young elf might return the visit? Perhaps a trade route of some kind might be opened, or a yearly visit established? Any interaction between dwarves and elves that didn't end in insult or bloodshed was a good interaction, as far as Billa was concerned, and she would do her best to establish as many successful interactions as she could.

At 2:34, she was asleep in her chair and snoring as loudly as Nori.

* * *

Two days later, a bundle of letters from Billa, Ori and Lithir were being carried east to Rivendell.

Three weeks later, a bundle of letters from Rivendell came back, and Billa grinned a predatory grin to read them.

* * *

It was nearing the end of winter, after the letters had been sent but before a reply had been heard that more sinister things began to stir. The cold was abating but food was still scarce, and on a dark, frigid night, howls were heard on the edges of the Shire.

Billa, who was visiting her Uncle Isumbras at the time, blanched to hear them, and then narrowed her eyes in determination.

Isumbras's eyes narrowed too, and then an uncharacteristically mean smile appeared on both their faces.

"Dearest Uncle, shall we see how those swords and shields hold up in a real battle?" she said.

"My dearest niece, our newly dwarf-trained Bounders are due for a test, aren't they?" he agreed.

They summoned the captain of the bounders, and Balin, and the four of them spent a few hours behind locked doors in Isumbras' study, drafting patrol and battle plans.

By that evening, word was spreading into every corner of the Shire for hobbits to stay indoors and to keep their weapons close. The bounders (and any dwarves and hobbits who volunteered) reviewed and practiced fiercely for two days, and then the bounder captain Bolton, Billa, and Balin each led a contingent on regular patrols.

They led the patrols nightly, each covering a different part of the Shire. Balin to the east-northeast, Billa to the southeast, and Bolton to the north. Balin's contingent, which was mostly dwarven in nature, found nothing but tracks the first night. Bolton's patrol, which was mostly hobbitish, heard nothing but howls. Billa's contingent was equally mixed between dwarven warriors and hobbit bounders, but she had no signs either.

For a week, so it went. Howls, or fresh tracks, but no skirmishes. It seemed as though the foul creatures were seeking to avoid them, or wait them out, or move around them. However, the patrol pattern was thorough and the defenders were determined, and so the goblins and wolves were forced to action.

On the 8th patrol, in the deepest, coldest part of the night, each patrol was attacked by goblins and wolves who were mad with hunger and rabid with bloodlust.

Balin's contingent of mostly experienced dwarves had been very confident that their mere presence would deter the goblins and wolves, and so were singing a battle-hymn far too boisterously to hear the goblins approach. They were taken by surprise. Many received initial wounds, but for the most part, they weathered the assault easily. They slew many wolves and goblins and suffered no losses at all. After the fight, the new hobbit bounders were sick in the bushes, but the dwarves were not unkind to them. They patched themselves up, those that needed it, and then the goblin and wolf corpses were piled together and burned. Although, Balin did take a note from Billa's book, and mounted a wolf-head on a spear in front of the bonfire. _Perhaps_ , he mused as he admired his work, _Billa might be onto something and this might warn the filthy things off next time._ Nothing like a good battle to make you soften your opinions of your friends.

Bolton's contingent in the north was very, very lucky, and the two experienced dwarf-warriors in the group knew it. The hobbits were so quiet as they crept along and the orcs and wolves so loud that they were able to hear the wolves howling and the goblins screeching as they approached, which gave the hobbits plenty of time to sort themselves into the much-practiced battle formations that would soon save their lives. The dwarves were astounded at the panic the hobbits displayed when they first heard the howling, and they rather disdained how long it took the hobbits to remember their heads and get into position, but they grudgingly admitted that once the hobbits were ready, they were stern and undaunted as they mounted their defense. They swung their dwarf-forged swords with all their strength, and held to their formations, even when the goblins shrieked at them and the wolves lunged. They remembered their drills and their training, and although they did not have quite so many foes against them as the Balin's contingent did, they still acquitted themselves rather admirably. They, too piled the dead into bonfires, and bound up their wounds as the smoke billowed into the clear night sky.

Billa's contingent was the most balanced, with two hobbits for every dwarf, and Nori and Bifur both rode with her, for which she was grateful. It was Nori who spotted the plumes of smoke rising from the north and from the east by the light of the full moon, and Billa gave the order to fall into their formations and look to their weapons. It was lucky she did so, because those who had been driven off from the north and from the east were running and screeching slowly towards her patrol, and they grew in numbers as they did.

Now, the wolves and goblins were fairly desperate at this time. Usually, after a bad winter, they could come down and _snack_ on the edges of the Shire, so long as they were subtle and sneaky and avoided the Rangers. Such snacking kept them alive, and gave them enough strength to keep hunting and fighting until spring came and food was more plentiful. However, this winter, they had been thwarted by a series of patrols that had kept them at bay, in freezing and starving conditions for over a week. At this point, they _needed_ to eat. Their survival was on the line, and if they could just break through the patrols and spend one night feasting in the Shire, they would survive until spring.

Billa's contingent suffered the largest attack a few hours after the other patrols. Their swords were strong, and although some of the hobbit-hands that held the swords trembled, their courage did not falter. Billa acquitted herself well, for she had enjoyed months of study and was not unused to battle. Nori and Bifur, her regular sparring partners (and fearsome opponents, although not considered warriors in their own rights) were her partners in formation, and they kept each other as safe as they could. The patrol had the benefit of superior teamwork, and superior weaponry, and some superior training. However, the wolves and goblins were desperate, and they fought as fiercely as they could, and they outnumbered Billa's patrol three to one!

However, after an hour or so of fighting, the grey light of pre-dawn started to lighten the world, and the goblins had been cut down so that they now faced even odds against the dwarf-hobbit patrol. Finally, the goblins screeched out the retreat, and the foul creatures began to flee.

Billa's little contingent, much the worse for wear, gave a ragged little cheer that petered out almost immediately as they finally had a moment to catch their breaths. Panting, Billa directed that the wounded be the first priority, and that the bodies of the enemy be gathered and burned only after every fighter had been tended to.

All of them bore wounds, some more severe than others, but the way the formations had been mixed between hobbits and dwarves meant that everyone had a team to keep them safe, and although two hobbits had lost part of a foot, and one dwarf had had a chunk taken out of his nose, and another hobbit had lost half an ear, and several had lost a few fingers, and although many had been stabbed or shot or bludgeoned- they did not have a lost life between them.

Finally, the wounded were tended and the bonfire was lit, and then dawn had arrived. Billa's little band trudged back to shelter. Reports were sent of and to each patrol, and each contingent, whether hobbit or dwarrow, fell into a deep, well-deserved sleep.

* * *

After another week of patrols, all the tracks and howls disappeared, but they stayed vigilant and kept patrolling for another fortnight, just to be safe.

When green started to appear on the trees and new leaves began to grow, the patrols ceased. Spring was officially here!

* * *

One week after that, the doorbell rang and Billa, hoping against hope that it was word of Thorin, flung open the door.

"Miss Billa Baggins, as I live and breathe," exclaimed the stranger on her porch. "Will you marry me?"


	47. Chapter 47

DEAR READERS:

You may have noted that the previous chapter ends in a cliff-hanger. This cliff-hanger was as much a surprise to me, as it was to you. Unfortunately I, too, and just as clueless as you as to the identity of the person who proposes marriage to Billa!

I wrote it on a whim, on the spur of the moment, on a dreadfully rash impulse. So, in order to move forward with the story, we need to pick someone to be proposing marriage at the door!

So, dear readers, I would be very grateful if you could review or message me with your version and your idea. Who is at the door? How do they know Billa? Why are they proposing marriage? And what is Billa going to do about it?

Thank you all very much, and as soon as this conundrum is solved, I look forward to updating very soon!

Sincerely,

Experimental Notion.


	48. Chapter 48

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

 _Chapter 47_

 _The doorbell rang and Billa, hoping against hope that it was word of Thorin, flung open the door._

 _"Miss Billa Baggins, as I live and breathe," exclaimed the stranger on her porch. "Will you marry me?"_

"Errr..." Billa said hesitantly, glancing behind her to where Balin was sitting in the drawing room, looking just as surprised as she.

"This may indeed come as a shock, Miss Baggins, that such a respectable gentlehobbit as I would ever pay such attentions to such a wild lass teetering on the edge of unrespectability, but my duty, Miss Baggins, nay my honor, demands that I offer you the protection of my name before you disgrace yourself entirely."

Billa's hesitance disappeared and her grumpiness swelled, exacerbated by sore muscles from the way Balin had trounced her in a spar the day before and the silence from the Blue Mountains.

"Is that so, Mister Gentlehobbit? I must say, I had not thought it at all respectable to propose to a lass who doesn't even know your name! It seems like the height of presumption and ill manners to me," Billa said, with a little more spite in her voice than normal.

Balin, behind her, stifled a snicker. They'd resolved most of their differences over the winter. He could (though he would never, ever admit it, not even to save his life) now understand a little of Sindarin, enough to get through the greetings and ask for directions and get the jist of most conversations. He'd changed her bandages after the patrol attacks, and they'd played several chess games and other strategy games to fill the time in the early spring. They swapped stories and shared histories, and Billa was glad to have built a new rapport with the dwarf she had once so admired.

However, the _gentlehobbit_ at the front door still required her attention.

"I'm sure it would seem so to _you_ , Miss Baggins, but you must trust me to know the right of it. I am Robin Longlocks, and I am determined to save you from yourself." Billa was so stupefied by his rudeness, that she missed her chance to slam the door on his face. He walked right past her and, after sniffing disdainfully at Balin, made himself at home on her sofa. Billa gritted her teeth, and clenched her fists, and made ready to give him a well-deserved tongue-lashing when the bell rang again.

 _Probably a whole horde of his self-important relatives,_ she seethed, _come to host the wedding party before I've even met any of them!_ and she threw the door open with a bang.

"WHAT?" she shouted as she turned to face the entry. Balin snorted again, and Mister Longlocks sniffed even more disdainfully.

Then she gasped, and her face turned from fury, to surprise, to delight. A huge grin split her face, and a blush lit up her cheeks.

"THORIN!" she cried, and Thorin it was!

She leapt into his arms, confident he would catch her, and he did. He was warm, and just a bit sweaty, and solid as ever. He smelled sweet, and musky, and _here_ and _safe_ and _hers._ She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pressed her cheek against his, turning her head every moment or two to kiss his cheek, or his forehead, or even (so scandalous!) his ear.

It was after she had pressed a daring kiss to his ear that the unwelcome Mister Longlocks made himself known.

"This is the exactly kind of behavior, Miss Baggins, which has so disgraced you. Occasional business dealing with dwarves was bad enough, let alone actually _allowing them into your house_ , but this! This is beyond the pale! Release that dwarf, Miss Baggins! As your fiance, I demand it!" Mister Longlocks cried.

Billa's face contorted again, from extreme joy to extreme fury as she watched Thorin's face go pale with dismay.

"Billa," he stammered as he carefully put her down, "Your ... your fiance?"

"No, Thorin," she tried to reassure him, clutching his hands. "He's not!"

"I am _so_ , Miss Baggins, and I insist we wed at once. Your manners are far more disreputable than I had feared, and must be corrected _immediately!_ "

Billa Baggins whirled around to set her wrath on the stupid little _gentlehobbit._

 _"_ You foul, filthy, sneaking, obnoxious and EVIL LITTLE TWERP!" she shouted, shaking her fist at him. As she turned, Thorin could see the knife he had forged her, still worn proudly at her side.

Mister Longlocks went pale and took a step back, before gathering his courage and narrowing his eyes at her.

"Miss Baggins, you are entirely out of order! Desist such wretched insults at once. I am a _respectable_ gentlehobbit as you well know, and will not be treated thusly. This inexcusable behavior proves beyond all doubt how _badly_ you need my help- my immediate help! Come my dear, and we'll be wed before nightfall. Fear not! You'll never have to consort with these- these _ruffians_ ever again! We'll have you well again in no time." Mister Longlocks began to match actions to words, and so seized Billa by the arm to try and drag her out the door.

That, alas, was his mistake.

Thorin, not sure why Billa had chosen this man as her suitor, but unwilling to see her manhandled all the same, struck faster than any cobra.

Billa found herself freed of Mister Longlocks' grasp less than a second after she had entered it, and Mister Longlocks found himself up against the wall of Bag End's entryway with Thorin's hand clenched around his neck.

"I do not know," Thorin said with quiet menace, "why you claim Billa as your betrothed and she denies it, and I do not know how these events came to be. But," he said grimly as his voice dropped into a deep register and became nearly a growl, " _I will not allow you to put your hands on her against her will_."

Now, it shall be known that Billa _could_ have made Mister Longlocks release her. However, she was rather glad that she hadn't had to, all things considered.

"Thorin," she said softly, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Thorin turned to look at her, sadness in his eyes. "Have I lost you, Billa?" he said, his voice no more than a whisper. It made Billa's heart ache just to hear it.

"No, Thorin," she promised him, her heart in her eyes.

"Then, why...?" his voice trailed off weakly.

Before Mister Longlocks could take the chance to break into the conversation, Balin spoke.

"Neither Lady Billa nor I had ever seen this... _person_ before today, Thorin," Balin said calmly, and Thorin's eyes darted to him. "He knocked on the door about two minutes before you did and proposed marriage before we'd even learned his name. He insulted all of us rather badly, and Miss Billa was just getting ready to give him a piece of her mind when you knocked on the door instead. I daresay, she was so pleased to see you, she didn't care one whit what Mister Shortbrains here thought." Balin delivered most of this speech with a placidity that soothed Thorin immensely, although he did snicker a little at the end.

With this new information, Thorin felt entirely confident in tossing Mister Shortbrains or Longbutt or whatever his name was out of the door, ignoring his yelp, and locking the door behind him. Then he turned and stared directly at Billa.

Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were bright, and she was gazing up at him with hope and adoration in her eyes.

"Thorin?" she breathed hopefully.

Balin tactfully made himself scarce.

"Billa," Thorin whispered as he gathered her into his arms. "Oh, Billa."

For the next several minutes, the lips, hands and ears of the dwarf and the hobbit in the entry-way were rather scandalously occupied.

If the great dwarf king-in-exile got down on his knees and told Billa he loved her ardently, forgave her every fault, and that it was his truest desire to marry her, well, Billa would never tell what passed between them.

If the time-traveling hobbit princess threw her arms around Thorin and told him she adored him, she loved him, and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, well, Thorin would treasure those words secretly in his heart forever.

As for why no one looked at all surprised when Billa and Thorin showed up the next morning with courting braids and beads in their hair and clasping each other's hands, well... Nori had always been watching in the shadows, from the very beginning. Why should this be any different?


	49. Chapter 49

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 49

 _"Billa," Thorin whispered as he gathered her into his arms. "Oh, Billa."_

 _For the next several minutes, the lips, hands and ears of the dwarf and the hobbit in the entry-way were rather scandalously occupied._

Thorin felt his skin on fire. The kisses he and Billa had shared last fall had been sweet, but now, bolstered by the passion of a long-awaited reunion, Billa's lips and hands left blazing trails of heat everywhere they touched. He moaned into her mouth as she licked his lip, and she whimpered as he held her tighter and stroked the lobe of her ear with a warm, callused thumb.

"Thorin," she whispered, her voice spurring him on. He moved to press her against the wall where he'd threatened his rival but a few moments earlier, and she clung to him even tighter.

 **BANG! BANG! BANG!**

They sprang apart, startled by the loud knock at the front door. Billa's face was deeply flushed, and Thorin guessed his complexion would match hers. In all the time Thorin had stayed in her Smial, he'd never known her to avoid answering the door, but an interruption now felt unbearable. Billa bit her lip, conflicted.

"BILLA BAGGINS!" Mister Longlocks' voice cried stridently through the thick wooden door. "YOU LET ME IN THIS INSTANT!"

Thorin grinned as Billa rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"I've never been so insulted in this lifetime," she told him dryly. "I've never even heard of this fellow before."

Thorin smiled softly at her, pleased at her reassurance of indifference towards this rival. "Never heard of him at all?"

"Never heard of him," she promised. "Last time around, I was much more respectable. He seems like the kind of person with strong ideas about propriety and his own importance. As a respectable hobbit, I would never have been gossiped about and he never would have heard of me. His accent sounds as though he's from the South Farthing or the Homesteads, and they've probably had the least exposure to the changes we've been making and the most uneasiness. But, it will pass," she said firmly.

"BILLA BAGGINS, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! DO YOU HEAR ME?" Longlocks shrieked again.

Thorin gritted his teeth. This was not going according to plan. He'd ridden ahead to surprise the woman he missed desperately after several long months apart, and this was _not going according to plan!_ How could he get rid of the scheming little nuisance outside?

An idea struck him, and Thorin smirked. "Among dwarves, Billa, when two suitors approach the same female, she is entitled to see their feats of strength and their skill on the battlefield," he said nonchalantly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She cocked her head to the side, curious and attentively listening.

"In fact," he continued, "if one of those suitors is deemed unwelcome by the lady, it falls to her preferred suitor to drive him off." He saw the comprehension and humor on her face as she realized his scheme.

"I must tell you, Lady Billa," he said gravely, using her full title for emphasis, "that nothing would give me more pleasure that to ensure he does not bother you again."

Billa blushed, and thought it was rather gallant of him to offer, and personally, she would not mind if he made sure she never heard of or from Mr Longlocks ever again. However, politics would always be involved, and it seemed a very bad idea to have the obnoxious soundly thrashed by her dwarf, even if a thrashing was richly deserved. Billa found herself feeling disappointed that she couldn't take Thorin up on his offer, and she told him so.

"While I personally would enjoy such protection," she said fondly, reaching out to hold and caress his hands, "I must request you refrain, for such an act, however soundly deserved, would have consequences we do not wish to deal with."

Thorin slumped in disappointment.

"MISS BILLA BAGGINS! IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR, I SHALL HAVE TO MUSTER THE BOUNDERS TO FREE YOU FROM THESE BLASTED DWARVES!" the obnoxious little man bellowed.

Billa pursed her lips in annoyance. Honestly, Longshanks was spoiling a perfectly wonderful reunion, and the sooner she could get rid of him, the better. "Thorin," she said thoughtfully.

"Yes Billa?" he asked.

"BILLA BAGGINS!" Longlocks screamed.

"Mister Longlocks isn't going to go away easily, but perhaps that's not such a bad thing. Would you be willing to enter into a contest against him, with my hand as the prize?" she asked.

Thorin swallowed. This was not the kind of homecoming he had had in mind.


	50. Chapter 50

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any associated characters or concepts. Quotes in this chapter taken directly from The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien.

 _Summary: On the way to the Undying Lands, Billa Baggins is eaten by a time-traveling sea monster. She wakes up in her 33-year-old body and realizes she has a chance to change everything. Unfortunately, Thorin has a tendency to run around shirtless, and Dis thinks she has improper designs on Fili and Kili, but if she can convince the Shire that Dwalin is a dance teacher, things might be okay._

* * *

Chapter 50

It was late at night after Mister Longlocks had been thrown out and the Bounders had been dealt with. The Bounders, having been led by Billa and Balin in battle, were rather disinclined to believe his complaints, but Billa knew that Longlocks' complaints and poison could spread through the Shire, and for Thorin's sake, the hobbit must be carefully dealt with.

Thorin and Billa were shut up in her study, with cups of steaming hot cocoa and a plate of muffins to share between them. They were sitting around Thorin's desk, for it was the largest, and if their hands happened to brush against each other often, well, it was chalked up to mere accident.

They hadn't kissed since Billa had asked him to compete, and there was a slight air of tension between them. After Longlocks had been led away, Thorin had been reunited with Balin, Bifur, and Lithir, and after a hearty (but awkward) meal where Balin had carried the bulk of the conversation, the party at Bag End had gone down to the Old Smials, and Thorin had heard the reports of his dwarrow.

In the Blue Mountains, where past years' winters had reaped between 30 and 40 dwarrow from bitter cold or biting hunger, this year, only two had died. Not from the winter; they had died in a mining accident, and due to the blankets and food sent from the Shire, their families had been well taken care of. It had been a much warmer and easier winter in Ered Luin than ever the dwarves had faced.

For those dwarves in the Shire, the elderly and the young, they had first had plenty of blankets from the house-warming parties that the hobbit ladies had held in their honor. Then, due to the work they'd been able to find as dance teachers, mentors, craftsmen, and storytellers, they'd been able to afford plenty of food and fuel during the winter. One gaffer had passed away, but he had died in his sleep in a warm smial after kissing his grandchildren goodnight. It was a much more peaceful end than he would have gotten if Billa and Thorin had never crossed paths in Bree, and Thorin knew it.

It was this knowledge- that Billa's interference had saved between 30 and 40 lives this year- that tempered Thorin's discontent with her request. Billa did mad things and had mad schemes, but she loved him. She'd waited for him (whatever Shortbutt might say), and despite his fears, he trusted her.

So, when night fell and the other occupants of Bag End found other ways to amuse themselves, Thorin followed Billa into her study and asked how her winter had been.

Billa sighed. "Lonely," she admitted. "I've grown so used to having you here, and all your dwarves. It was very quiet and empty this winter. I missed your family and Dwalin very much, but, it was you I missed the most."

Thorin smiled to hear it. His winter had been cold and hard, but not so cold or hard as it might have been, though it had seemed all the bleaker in her absence.

"For all I had my family near and my people at hand to watch over, I must admit that you held sway over my thoughts," he said softly. Billa touched his hand gently in reassurance.

Thorin's eyes locked on her hand- such a small, dainty hand it had been when they first met. Now, her fingers and palms were roughened with calluses, and her knuckles were littered with scars. His eyes trailed from her strong little hands up her forearms, still sleek and feminine, but now sporting muscles she hadn't had before, and then down to her waist.

The knife he'd forged for her was belted proudly on her trim little waist, the hilt still wrapped with silk.

It was time that changed, wasn't it? He'd had months to think on her story, months to think of her, and months to think of the trials ahead. Thorin knew what he had to do. He slid down to his knees in front of her, and Billa's warm brown eyes watched him intently.

"Billa Baggins," he intoned solemnly, "Return to me the knife I forged for you."

Billa swallowed nervously, but did as he said, holding the knife out to him in both hands. They trembled a little, and the knife trembled with them. Thorin gently took it from her palms.

"I have made my judgment, Billa Baggins," he told her gravely. "You put your life in my hands, willingly, when you knelt before me last fall. Will you do so again?"

She looked deeply into his eyes and considered. Last fall, she hadn't been afraid to die. She had taken care of her dwarves, and improved their lives as much as she could. She'd felt an old woman, and she'd already died once already, after all! Death had been nothing to fear, and perhaps, something to welcome. But now, after spending a winter longing and hoping for Thorin, Billa didn't want to die, anymore. _She wanted to live._ Not just to protect her dwarves or provide for them, but to find her own happiness. To find the happiness that blossomed when Thorin was near to her, touching her, smiling at her. She wanted her chance at happiness! She wasn't ready to die. Was she really willing to put her life in Thorin's hands? He'd thrown her sacrifice away so cruelly on the Front Gate of Erebor. Could she trust him to make the right decision now?

Even as these worries spilled over in her mind, Billa knew what she had to do. She had begun this trial, and she would see it through. She had given herself over to him for judgment last fall... and she was an honorable hobbit.

"Yes, Thorin," she said resolutely.

"Kneel," he commanded her. She pushed her chair back to kneel in front of him, her breathing suddenly quick with nerves. "Close your eyes," he whispered hoarsely, and she swallowed deeply as she clenched her eyes shut. She did not think he would kill her, but she knew he could. The gold-mad Thorin of Erebor had tried, after all.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her head was whirling as she remembered last fall. _"I have not yet passed judgement, Billa Baggins,"_ he had whispered as he loomed over her, his voice thrilling her even as his words threatened her. _"You will keep this knife, hilt covered from the world just as you covered your true story from me. You will keep this knife on you, always. No matter where you go, you will wear this knife proudly and prominently. You will never, ever use it. When I have made my decision, you will kneel, just like this, and offer the knife to me_ _and then_ _, I will return this knife to you, either to your hand or to your heart."_

There was a susurration of silk, and her heart beat faster.

Then his large, sword-roughed hand was gently cradling her own, and the cold, smooth hilt of his hard-forged knives was pressed into it.

"Billa Baggins," he whispered as his other hand came up to cradle her face and gently smooth her cheek. "These months apart have haunted me. I love you most ardently, and I know I always will." Billa sniffled, her heart swelling with his declaration.

"Look at me, my sweet, sweet Billa," he said, his voice tender and soft. How could she do anything but obey such a request? Her eyes fluttered open to meet his, and her she felt like melting at the love she saw shining in his gaze.

"Billa Baggins," he said again, "There is nothing to forgive. Your past has been washed away, and our future is not set in stone. Of one thing I am sure: so long as you are by my side, that dreadful and terrible future will never come to pass."

"Thorin!" Billa whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was too overcome with emotion to say anything else.

"Billa," he replied gently. "I do not know what scheme you have for my rival in your affections, but I trust that you will not trifle with my affections. A dwarf's love, once roused, endures forever, and to marry you would make me the happiest Dwarf alive. You have become my lodestone, for my heart is always pointing me towards you. So long as you want me, Billa, and even long after you don't, I will be yours," he vowed to her.

His hand tightened around her own, which curled her fingers around the hilt, the hilt that bore the proof of his admiration, his devotion, his respect. His thumb stroked the back of her hand gently, and Billa felt her heart overflow with joy.

Was it possible to die from too much happiness? From too much love?

Billa's free hand reached out to clutch the front of his tunic, and pull herself closer to him, the knife tucked safely to the side. She pressed her face into his beard, into his cheek, into his neck. She kissed his cheek, and then pulled away til there was only a breath between them. His bright blue eyes were soft with adoration, reflecting back to her the love that was burning in her heart.

 _If it's possible to die from joy_ , Billa thought, _the end will come any minute now._

 _"_ Thorin Oakenshield," she said, laughing through her happy tears, "When I first met you I thought you were the most disagreeable and proud being in the whole of Middle Earth, and I was determined to dislike you."

Thorin snorted.

"Our road together has not been smooth, or easy, but I have learned your character and I know your heart. You are a fierce warrior, a jealous king, and I think the best male I have ever known. I have come to admire your courage and your determination, to lean on your expertise and your strength, and to long for your smiles and your peace. I love you more deeply than a hobbit has ever loved anything, and I have loved you for over 80 years of my life. Thorin, I can say with utmost certainty, that I will love you until the day I die... and beyond," she promised.

Thorin would never admit it and Billa would never ask him to, but there were tears shining in his eyes and Billa would treasure the sight of them forever.

"As for Mister Longlocks," she said, and Thorin shifted uncomfortably, "He will be sorely disappointed to find that no matter what he does, he will never have Miss Billa Baggins for a wife."

At her pleased announcement, Thorin couldn't keep back a chuckle.

"Billa," he said, "May I put a courting braid in your hair?" he asked. "Mister Whatsisface may not know what they mean, but you and I do, and it would please me to see you wear my braids."

Billa grinned and nodded. For the next half hour, their fingers were pleasantly engaged in a labor of love.

Nori, who was hiding outside the study window much like Samwise Baggins might have many decades in the future-past (although it must be said, Nori was by far the sneakier of the two), had to bite his fingers to keep from giggling. For all his sneaking and thieving and plotting, Nori dearly loved a happy ending.


End file.
